


In Any Other World

by hotkadamn (shadowslovesong), hummdrumlife



Category: Glee
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-29
Updated: 2014-04-27
Packaged: 2017-12-06 20:19:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 69,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/739705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowslovesong/pseuds/hotkadamn, https://archiveofourown.org/users/hummdrumlife/pseuds/hummdrumlife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A season two (and eventually beyond) rewrite: what might have been between Kurt Hummel and Sam Evans and how one date could have changed it all.  Picks up mid-episode in "Duets" and continues to roughly follow canon plot points.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Kurt sits at the computer in the library during his free period, Garland playing through his headphones, humming along as he scrolls through eBay listings with a practiced flick of his finger on the mouse, speed reading for bargains. The week has been one of mixed emotions and he's doing a bit of 'window shopping' on the DL to boost his spirits. His performance was, as expected, flawless. He's proud of himself for that, as well as for the perfect song selection and costume decisions, and for what he said beforehand.

But he still isn't sure how he feels about the decision to duet... solo, or about the feeling of watching Sam and Quinn sing and sway like preteen movie starlets and win for it. What should be triumphant is, currently, a little uncertain. What should be full of pride is still a bit wounded. It's difficult not to feel as if he'll always be stuck playing the Supporting Actress while the 'traditional' glee couples snag the leading roles, especially when he'd felt again, just for a moment, that rush that had crashed and burned so painfully with Finn. When he'd only just started to dream. Why isn't he allowed to dream?

And then the trademark canned bell sound rings out over Judy and an IM window appears on top of the Givenchy gray boots.

_pandorarockstar : i was wrong, dude  
pandorarockstar : waay better then faith hill_

Kurt's eyes widen slowly at the screen as he straightens in his chair, heat blooming under the collar of his shirt. Surreptitious instant messaging. This is no casual email exchange. His fingers shift uncertainly in the air over the keys before he starts to type.

He's just worked out the perfect response, blending casual flirtation and reasonable deniability, when a pair of mammoth hands abruptly descend and clap him on the shoulders. Finn's voice is a bit muffled, but still audible.

"Hey, man, I just wanted to say-"

His words stop abruptly when Kurt frantically leans forward and turns in his seat, attempting to hide the screen while yanking the headphones down to his neck and looking far too nervously attentive. When Finn stops and frowns, Kurt only makes it worse by blinking quickly and stammering.

"What? What is it Finn, what... were you saying? Study hall won't last forever."

A nervous laugh and Finn is convinced something is up. He cranes his neck over Kurt's shoulder and catches the barest glimpse of Sam's IM name in the window.

"Dude. Seriously? Still with this?"

Kurt's jaw sets as he feels that angry heat curling into his cheeks.

"We're just _talking_. I'm not allowed to speak with people now? I hope you and my father have fun picking out the robes for the monastery, I'll send you my measurements."

The librarian hisses a shush at them and Finn lowers his voice as he leans closer, brow still furrowed. "Sam went on a date with _Quinn_. You really think he would do that if he was into you? Dude is _not. Gay._ "

Kurt tilts his chin up into the air and looks down his nose, giving Finn his best diva disgust.

"You know, I feel sorry for you. You're so closed-minded that you can't even see anything that doesn't fit into your version of the world. Deal with your prejudice, because it is _not_ my responsibility."

Kurt snaps the headphones back up onto his ears and turns his back. Finn puts a hand on his shoulder to try to continue the conversation but Kurt shrugs it off violently and turns over his shoulder to spit a librarian-esque 'shh' at him as he settles back in. The frown is both confused and frustrated now, but Finn retreats, one fist clenched and head shaking. Kurt's hands shake a little as he stares at the little IM window that still hovers on his screen. He selects all of his words and deletes them, then replaces them.

_longlostlupone: We shouldn't talk._

There's a reasonably long pause, during which Kurt feels his heart thudding in his chest. Finally the bells chime again.

_pandorarockstar: says who??_

Kurt has a choice here, he knows that. He could just say to Sam, 'Ask Finn,' and let what will be, be. But it isn't his way. Kurt stares at the window for a second longer, then closes it, logs out of the computer, and pushes his chair back. He repeats it in his mind until his heart rate calms. _Sam went on a date with Quinn. Sam went on a date with Quinn. Sam went on a date... with Quinn._

Sam squints at the computer, confused and unsettled. He and Kurt had gotten along all week. Kurt even seemed to really... like him, or whatever. In whatever way. He'd seemed a little sad about the whole duet thing and really, Sam is still kinda lost on that too, but he'd been totally nice about it and hey, maybe he'd just honestly thought he'd do better on his own. Which would have been reasonable, because he'd rocked. But now he's saying they shouldn't even talk anymore? What's that about? Kurt Hummel is a weird guy. Talented, and nice, and... yeah, cute or whatever... but weird. Still, it's harder than that to brush it off, and it's still nagging at him by the time glee practice rolls around. 

Sam doesn't sit by Kurt just in case, and Kurt sits as far away as possible from Finn, his shoulders stiff and his lips primly tight. The second Mr. Schue stops speaking, his leg is uncrossed and his bag is on his shoulder as he sweeps from the room, too fast for even Mercedes to catch up. Finn watches him as he walks away, a frustrated (and confused, but that isn't new) frown between his brows. Then he stands and picks up his backpack slowly. This stuff is hard to figure out. It definitely seemed right to say those things. But it's not like he likes Kurt being pissed at him. He's so good at the cold shoulder thing that it's messing his days up, even not being able to talk to him like normal. So cold Finn's getting frostbite. Heh, that's what Kurt would say.

Sam looks at his back when Finn stands to leave the room, then he stands too.

"Finn, hang a sec. Can I talk to you?"

Finn blinks at Sam for a second and then decides it's safe to smile.

"Sure, man." It fades into worry. "Unless you wanna talk about Quinn some more. I mean, no offense, but I think I should really be focusing on Rachel."

"I don't wanna talk about Quinn. Or Rachel." Sam braces himself for whatever's coming, although the confidence doesn't leave his expression. "It's about Kurt."

Immediately, Finn looks away and scratches his arm. This is so not going where he wanted it to go.

"Oh, uh. What about him?"

"Do you know what's up with him?" Sam pauses. Probably not the clearest way to phrase it, and Finn is the sort of dude who needs things spelled out. "He said he doesn't think we should talk anymore?"

Finn fights a couple of very confusing expressions down before responding. "Does it... _matter?_ I mean, look, dude, Kurt is great. But do you seriously want to lead him on, it's..."

Finn winces, trying to blow this off with a half-formed laugh. "It's what it is with him. You've gotta draw a line."

For a second, Sam's not even sure what to say. Finn's not a bad guy, he really doesn't think he is. But the whole thing before, about not singing with Kurt, and now this? There's a bunch of ways Sam could answer but he goes with the first, possibly most obvious question.

"Uh. Lead him on?"

"You're not gonna be what he wants you to be, you know? You just never would want to, which is fine, so it's better to just... let him get over it. Trust me, I've been there, and he's pretty intense. He just doesn't like to get that nothing could ever happen. But it'll blow over. Cool?" 

A hopeful smile. Finn really does like Sam, and Kurt for that matter, and this is just how the world's got to work, so hopefully soon everybody'll be on board with that.

Sam tightens his grip on the strap of his backpack, frowning. He hadn't planned on... coming out to any extent, really, until he was more comfortable around here. Lemon juice in your hair is one thing, being into both dudes and chicks in high school is another. He's not ashamed of it, and he's never actively tried to hide it, but he has a pretty decent sense of self-preservation too and if this whole school is filled with Finn Hudsons, explaining himself all the time is just gonna get exhausting.

"Man, I like you a lot. I think you're really cool. But you're... kind of making a whole lot of assumptions right now." 

Logically, maybe Finn could have made some important connections from that response. However, this is Finn Hudson, and connections are sort of tricky. He just frowns at Sam and blinks for a moment.

"You mean... Kurt? Everybody knows he's gay, dude. And it's pretty obvious he's into-"

At which point Rachel stops berating Mr. Schue and finally comes to collect her boyfriend with a grip around his arm, a polite smile to Sam, but a firm tug and a 'we need to talk.' Finn stumbles along after her, looking back once at Sam and obviously still uncertain about what sort of conversation they just had.

Sam sighs, shaking his head as Finn leaves. Okay, so Finn totally didn't get the implication at all. That's fine. He's not the one who needs to get it. Sam has a pretty good idea now of what's up with Kurt. Which means... he really needs to find him.

After semi-storming (alright, fully storming) out of glee, Kurt heads towards his locker. The only problem with being this continuously fashionably dressed is that you never want to crush the shoulder of a designer shirt with a heavy satchel, and it is _not_ cute to struggle down the hallway. So this means constant trips to restock with next period's books. Or better than books, as the case may be. Next period is Home Ec, thank the gods in genderblind heaven, so Kurt slides Math toward the back of the locker and gingerly takes out the apron and oven mitts and tucks them lovingly in his bag. Then it's primping time. He takes his stance in front of his mirror and touches one finger to a stray hair at his temple, moving it into place. Better.

It doesn't take Sam long to catch up with Kurt. He finds him at his locker, doing something to his hair. Fixing it, Sam guesses, not that it looked bad before. He smiles a little. It's kind of endearing, Kurt's whole... fashion thing. Sam knows nothing about it, but it works for Kurt.

"Hey. "

Kurt's eyes dart toward Sam and there's a little bit of interest and trepidation in them before he resolutely moves them back to his reflection in the mirror.

"Apparently whatever I have is communicable through speech, so if you can tell me what you need, I'll try to respond in as few words as possible."

"Dude, I don't care that you're gay, alright?" Sam pauses, because... that's not exactly accurate, is it? "I mean. Yeah, I care. But only..."

He bites his lip. He just needs to freaking ask already. What's his problem, anyway? Kurt can get up on that stage and own a song dressed in half-girl half-dude clothes, and Sam can't even ask him to dinner? Wuss.

"I still have a Breadstix gift certificate. Was kinda hoping you'd join me."

Kurt's finger freezes in mid-preen and his eyes widen around the edges as he stares blankly at the mirror. What is happening, what alternate world did he slip into, did he fall asleep during glee and start dreaming.

 _Breathe, Hummel. Breathe. This can't be what you think it is._ Kurt puts one of his hands on the door of his locker and turns his head to look directly at Sam, his expression empty of meaning.

"... What about Quinn?"

Sam shrugs. "She told me to take it. Not into the whole dating thing right now. Not that- not that it would have been a date with her! But... I mean whatever, right? Works out for the better cause... I mean we totally would have been going if we'd stuck to the original plan anyway." _And I really would've rather gone with you._

Kurt can't help looking Sam up and down, just the teensiest bit, as he silently tenses with giddy hope. There's that rush again. But he's supposed to be thinking of Sam, not of himself. That's what his father said. That's (essentially) what Finn said.

"... Word could get around. If singing with me could get you put in a dumpster, think of this as a potential for breadstick-gate."

Sam does think about that for a second, and then shrugs. He does want to be popular, he wants to be top dog, who doesn't. But you know what? If this week has taught him anything, it's that no one is safe. And how can he preach about not having a problem with gay dudes if he doesn't use what he has at his advantage to change people's minds? Because screw it. He's on the football team, he's good-looking and stereotypically dude-ly, and he can kick ass if he has to. He's not the sharpest or the most intellectual, but he knows this much... he can make a difference, just by being who he is. He can change the way this school sees guys who like other guys. So screw it. He smiles, and shrugs again.

" _Zamunge tsal sin._ "

Kurt's reaction is very different from Quinn's. He laughs first, a bright laugh that sounds both charmed and confused, and wraps his arms around his chest as his head tilts to the side.

"Can the lowly earthling get a translation?"

Now that, that is much closer to what Sam had been hoping for from Quinn. She'd been the one to bring _Avatar_ up, anyway-- he'd gotten a little overexcited by that. But Kurt's smile, that's nice. He grins.

"Bring it on."

"...Then my answer is yes." 

Kurt is warm again, from the inside out, and his teeth touch the inside of his lip before he closes the locker and catches Sam's eye. "Don't tell Finn."

"Yeah? Yes? Really?" Sam's grin brightens, and he kind of wants to hop around a little right there in the hallway. "Are you free tonight?"

Then what Kurt said actually hits and he pauses, tilting his head. "Wait, why not?"

Kurt rolls his eyes, the movement a tiny bit pained. "If you don't know the answer to that already, then you will soon."

There's a pointed look toward both of them from a group that passes by in the hallway and Kurt drops his eyes to the floor in response. His chin only lifts again for another smile so that Sam doesn't take it personally.

"I'll meet you there at eight?"

So Sam's suspicions were right. Finn had something to do with Kurt pushing Sam away. Of all the people in this school he wants to get to change their point of view, he thinks Finn Hudson is number one. Sam looks over and glares at the group as they pass. Whatever. He turns back to Kurt and smiles back. See? He can handle this crap.

"Eight is fine. "

Kurt is visibly surprised and, yes, impressed. His eyes and smile both soften, sliding into comfort before he sticks his hand out, just as he did that first time at Sam's locker.

"Until eight, Sam Evans."

Sam might change color a little under the soft smile, and he holds out his hand to grasp Kurt's. This time when he does it, he lowers Kurt's hand a little and squeezes, doesn't shake. Clearly not just the formal gesture it was meant to be. Kurt has super soft hands.

"See you at eight, Kurt Hummel."

 _Holy god, that look is dangerous with a capitol Damn. It's not a date,_ Kurt's mind whispers, trying to drag his heels back onto the ground as his mind starts fluttering up into the air above them giddily. _It can't be a date, it's not a date._ He has to escape before those moisturized palms start to sweat. Kurt holds his breath, frozen for a moment more before he lets out another nervous laugh, slips his hand away and turns to walk down the hallway. He looks back over his shoulder once, but at least it's only once. He really wishes he could gossip to someone about this _immediately_ but after Sam and Quinn had only just become a topic of conversation around the proverbial water cooler, it would sound so desperate and sad. 

So Kurt forces himself to stay quiet and outwardly calm the rest of the day (though he does burn his souffle) and spend only an hour getting ready before heading to Breadstix.

He arrives about ten minutes late, fashionable but not insensitive, and heads directly toward a recognizably blonde head. As he slides into his seat in his black cap and motorcycle-inspired felt sweater, he sets his satchel down primly, folds both hands in front of him on the table, and then meets Sam's eyes.

"So, tell the truth. What is it... vocal lessons? Fashion tips? Girl advice? Why did you really ask me here, because the women in our glee club baffle me just as much as they do you, so I won't be much help to you - I mean, not a _single_ one has taken me up on my offer of personal shopping services."

Sam grins brightly when he sees Kurt approach, and keeps smiling at him when he sits down. Kurt looks really nice. Sam, admittedly, hasn't really dressed up. He hopes Kurt doesn't mind. He opens his mouth to tell him he likes the hat, but then Kurt starts to talk and Sam's brow starts to furrow and his smile turns a bit downward.

"Um... none of the above? I kinda thought I'd made it clear. "

Kurt sits back in the booth and stares at Sam, visibly flabbergasted and more than a little confused.

"So then, what is this, because I'm out of guesses." _He won't say date, stop hoping he'll say date, only in your wildest fever dreams would he say date._

"I asked you here because um... I wanted to? I like you, Kurt, and I thought..."

Sam pauses, frowning again when it finally dawns on him.

"So... wait. Is that why you said yes? You didn't know I was asking for a date?"

A great deal of the color in Kurt's cheeks fades and his lips move as if he's trying to say something and he doesn't know how to start. His voice is definitely more quiet and uncertain than it was before when he finally finds it.

"What about Quinn? I thought you told Finn that you weren't..."

"I didn't tell Finn anything. Whatever he thinks he knows, he assumed. As for Quinn..." 

Sam shrugs, trying to figure out the best way to explain without sounding like a total wuss. "I did think I liked her. I mean she's... y'know. She's gorgeous and stuff, and she's smart. And I was kinda hooked on this idea of being the new school star, or whatever. And the thing is... if you- have a choice, like... like I do, well girls are kinda the easy way out in a school like McKinley, aren't they? Especially a girl like Quinn.

But then... I dunno. You did your song. And I was just sitting there thinking... God, this kid's got more balls than I ever will in my life. There I was all ready to take out the head cheerleader just to make life a little easier for myself, when the guy I'd... been thinking about since I got to this school was up there putting everything on the line and just owning it. I knew I had to stop wussing out and just go for what I really wanted. So when Quinn let me off the hook I was just... relieved. And I mean, she's been through enough. She didn't deserve to be anybody's second choice."

All of that color and more has steadily returned to Kurt's cheeks and he stares at Sam, knowing that he's red and not even noticing the waitress setting down their breadsticks until she asks them for their order. Without taking his eyes off of Sam's or moving in any other way, he lifts a hand and flicks his fingers at her imperiously until she leaves again. Then that quiet voice returns, but there's a trembling, hesitant hope in it this time.

"You're serious." He lifts one hand and puts it on the table between them, not sure if he's doing it for stability or to see if Sam wants to take it or if he's reaching for that, or even if he has power over that limb anymore.

"So, are you..." Eye flick, voice lower. "Are you... bi?"

Sam bites his lip, his heart doing a little flip at the way Kurt's eyes start to kinda... sparkle. He doesn't know exactly what this guy's been through, but apparently it hasn't been easy for him, and Sam thinks it would be really nice to see that smile more often.

"Yeah, I'm serious. I wouldn't mess around about something like this." He glances at the hand, remembering how nice it had felt to hold it before. He smiles and lifts his own, covering Kurt's. "And yeah. That doesn't bother you, does it?"

" _No!_ " Kurt's voice is a little high pitched in his eagerness and the shock of contact and he tries to get it back under control with another small chuckle. "No. When did you know, how long has it been, have you ever-"

Kurt holds up his other hand and closes his eyes briefly, still beaming but giving himself a little head shake. "Too much gay-citement, reigning it back."

Sam laughs, softly. "It's okay. Um... to answer your questions... when I was like, 13? Was at an all boys' school so it was kinda hard to ignore. So it's been three years, I'm out to my family and my friends at my old school, and I'm not sure what the last question was gonna end up as. "

Kurt should probably not finish that last question. He doesn't really need to hear about Sam's exes. He gets a little bit of his pride back as he sits back in the booth, though his hand doesn't go anywhere. His smile has the edge of a smirk.

"And I was right about the hair too, wasn't I. Tell me that I was right about the hair."

Sam laughs again, louder this time, and shakes his head. He's pretty sure he'd admit anything to Kurt right now.

"You were right about the hair, alright? I used lemon juice. Don't spread that around. "

Kurt breathes in and then out, shaking his head again to confirm it and to let go of the stiffness between his shoulders that he feels as if he's been carrying for a very, very long time. His cheeks are going to hurt soon from this smile. "If I wasn't me? I never would have noticed."

"Not really the best sixth sense you could have though, right? I mean you could see dead people or something, that would be pretty bad ass." Sam grins, squeezing Kurt's hand instinctively.

Kurt gives him a playful, lowered chin smile. "So, the nerdiness doesn't end at alien languages, does it."

Sam straightens with pride in response. "'Fraid not. I hope you like Batman."

Kurt seems to consider this carefully, chin tilted at an angle toward the ceiling.

"Black leather and tight pants, plus acknowledging the usefulness of a good belt. There are worse choices in heroes. "

It makes Sam laugh, but he still shakes his head. "Dude! Batman is about so much more than that. You've gotta watch the movies with me sometime, I promise there's more to it than Christian Bale... he's a plus, though." 

Kurt winces, still playfully. "Even the one with Seal on the soundtrack? That's cruel."

"Course. I don't do things halfway." Sam winks and it makes the heat bloom again under Kurt's collar. He has to pause before responding to get a hold on himself.

"... Then you're watching vintage musicals with me, because loving men and not loving _Singing in the Rain_ is unacceptable."

"Fair enough. I liked the one you sang the other day, for your duet. I'd watch that, even if the dude in the real move isn't as cool as you."

Sam smiles up at the waitress when she comes over to give them their drinks and take their order. Sam thinks about letting go of Kurt's hand, and then he doesn't. Well, not until the waitress reaching over makes it necessary, and then he makes a grab for it again. Kurt, on the other hand, ducks his head and looks distinctly uncomfortable while the waitress is present. Only when Sam's comment on the film actually sinks in does he seem to unclench his jaw and start to smile again.

"Sam, that 'dude' is Julie Andrews."

Sam notes Kurt's discomfort before it dissipates. Okay, so, maybe not one for super public displays? That's okay. He seems alright with Sam's hand now, anyway.

"Guess that's someone I should know about, huh?"

Kurt's eyes widen more than should be possible and his jaw drops down. "You are _kidding_ me. _Sound of Music_?!"

"Oh!" Sam laughs, both because Kurt's scandalized face is priceless, and because he totally knows this one. "Yeah man, I like that movie. I can even play the _Do Re Mi_ song on my guitar." 

Kurt lets out a chuckle of relief and then lifts his hand, vocalizing as it raises through the air. " _Do re mi fa so la ti do! Ti la so fa mi re do..._ "

" _Do so do!_ "

Sam hits the end notes, laughing. He's always been pretty shameless, not realizing or not caring how loserish he looks doing Sean Connery impressions and speaking Na'vi in public. But Kurt makes him feel free in a whole different way, and he's already starting to love it. "Maybe we could do that in glee sometime."

 _In glee. In public._ Kurt has to stop to think about that in order to speak again, and he looks, again, mystified.

"You really... aren't scared."

"Do I look scared?" Sam lifts his eyebrows, smiling.

"I've never met anyone like you." Kurt shakes his head at the table. "I thought, best case scenario, I spend the next three months flirting before you realize I'm not just... weirdly flamboyant."

"I've never met anyone like you either." Sam mimics Kurt's glance downward, feeling surprisingly bashful saying that. "And I wasn't sure if you were flirting. Kinda hoping, though. And you're not... weirdly flamboyant."

Kurt sniffs at Sam from across the table, disbelieving. "You seemed fairly sure."

"I'm an optimistic kind of guy." There's that broad Sam Evans grin again. Kurt returns it, shooting back the same glow in silence before straightening and clearing his throat.

"So, Sam Evans. Tell me about you. What's your family like?"

"They're great. I have my mom and dad, and a little brother and sister, Stevie and Stacy. They're nine and six. It can get loud in the house sometimes, but we're all happy, you know? Um. I was really nervous when I came out. We were raised pretty religious, and it was the south and all. But they were really cool about it. My dad was even like, 'So much for spending the extra money to send you to a school where you wouldn't be distracted by girls.'" Sam puts on a deeper voice like his dad's, laughing at his own impression. He scoots forward on his seat. "How about you?"

Kurt probably beams a little too much while Sam speaks, and lets it waver a little too much after as he inspects their joined hands.

"Oh. It's just me and my dad, now. Not that he isn't wonderful."

Sam's smile starts to falter. "Oh... I'm sorry. Did... something happen?"

"My mom... she died when I was eight." Kurt's discomfort makes him shift, but the upturn of his lips is too stubborn to be chased away entirely. "Dad says I take after her."

Sam frowns and tightens his hand around Kurt's. This is obviously a really, really tough topic and he immediately feels like a toolbag for bringing it up. "I'm really sorry, Kurt. I bet she was awesome."

"She was." Kurt lifts his chin with pride. "I used to watch those musicals with her. Gene Kelly, Judy Garland... we would dance together in the living room."

What started as a melancholy sort of bragging ended with a nostalgia that suddenly hits Kurt hard. He shakes his head and his fingernails scratch at the top of the table. "...I don't know why I'm telling you this."

Sam smiles softly, letting a thumb stroke over Kurt's knuckles. "You don't have to tell me anything you're not comfortable telling me. But I'm... glad you are."

That little gesture gives Kurt pause and makes it harder to form words for a moment. He tries at least to stifle any outward shivers. Unfortunately, at that moment, the waitress comes back and Kurt pulls his hand away this time, trying not to meet her eyes. As she leaves, he stares at his plate of pasta with silent guilt for a few moments, hands folded in his lap.

"... You're braver than you think. I may be able to sing falsetto in glee, but you asked me on a date to a public restaurant and I can't even hold your hand."

Sam looks at their hands, momentarily taken aback by Kurt's retreat. Then he slides his own hands back, taking a sip of his coke, brushing off the surprise. "Don't worry about it. Lots of people don't do that kind of thing in public."

Kurt snorts, because it's easier to be sarcastic about things that are genuinely painful, he learned that a long time ago. "Lots of people don't have to worry about their _physical safety_ for doing that kind of thing in public. Thank you, Ohio."

Sam frowns and shakes his head. He leans just a little over the table without considering the action or the words that follow. "I wouldn't let anyone touch you, you know that?"

Kurt feels his skin warm to dangerous temperatures under Sam's gaze and he chuckles, anxiously, covering up how pleasant that sounded and how red it probably made him. 

"You've only just met me."

Sam smiles, shrugging and doing his own part to lighten the mood after his somewhat intense declaration. He can't help it if he feels ridiculously protective of Kurt already.

"So I should just let some homophobe morons jump you and turn my head? That's not the Batman way, dude."

Kurt's breath struggles to remain even and he swallows. There are so many emotions flying about that he can barely imagine eating right now, but he picks up his fork anyway, his voice forcibly nonchalant.

"My hero."

Sam laughs obliviously and puts on the best gravely, deep Bale-as-Batman voice he can. "You either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain."

Kurt laughs abruptly, the real sort that becomes a giggle halfway through and rocks him a little backward in his seat. Apparently, his life has been wanting a nerd to make him laugh like that and Sam's smile kicks up about ten notches at that reaction before he laughs softly and looks down at the table.

"Hope that's not a sign my impression needs work, cause I was sure I had that one down."

"That depends - you were going for classic Cookie Monster, weren't you?" Kurt's eyes sparkle as he smirks around the straw he sips from.

"No- shut up, it did not sound like Cookie Monster!" Sam barks out a laugh and shakes his head, then leans forward over the table. "It didn't, right?"

Another little nose wrinkle giggle from Kurt, before an oh-so-innocent lip bite and a look toward the heavens. "Mm... Darth Vader?"

"Hey, I'll have you know my Darth Vader is dead on!"

Kurt meets Sam's appalled expression with a wide-eyed tease of a plea. " _Please_ don't prove it."

Of course, there's only one possible response to that. Sam ducks his chin as his voice deepens. "Obi-wan never told you what happened to your father?"

Kurt rolls his eyes at the display, scooping up a forkful of pasta with sly ease. "Very believable, you sound exactly like a black man with a breathing problem."

Sam actually snorts cola at that, and coughs a little as he puts his drink down.

"Uh huh. You'll learn to appreciate it."

Kurt finishes that bite of his spaghetti with a sly little flustered series of blinks. After swallowing, he speaks again, unintentionally breathy.

"That sounds fairly longterm."

Sam gives another little shrug, reddening himself because he hadn't even realized his implication until now.

"Like I said. Optimist."

Kurt shakes his head, tone obviously teasing. "How... can you be such a flirt and yet not at all a stereotype."

Sam smiles around his bite of ravioli, probably proving Kurt's point a little by wiping his mouth on his sleeve after he puts his fork down. "Dunno. I'm just... me, I guess. "

"You're everything my dad probably wishes I could be."

Kurt tries to say it casually, but he's aware that it doesn't work, that the doubt creeps in. Sam's smile fades a little. What he lacks in reading words on a page, he usually can make up for in reading faces.

"You said you were tight, didn't you?"

"Oh, we're fabulous." Kurt's eyebrows lift as he shoots for unaffected sincerity. "But... look at you. Football, cheerleaders, plaid. I bet you even like monster trucks."

"Well they're huge freaking trucks, Kurt! Have you seen those things? Massive." Sam leans toward him with just as much intensity in his eyes and Kurt chuckles despite himself, shaking his head.

"I really shouldn't introduce you two, he might try to swap."

That's when Sam frowns again, slipping under Kurt's defenses with ease. "Is this like... something that really bothers you? Cause man, I don't even know your dad and I know he wouldn't want you to be me."

Kurt's nonchalance has evidently faltered and he looks away, cursing himself silently for ever mentioning this. "Listen to me, ruining the mood."

Sam just overpowers his anxiety with absolute concern. "You can talk about stuff if you need to. You always can. But it's just... you're awesome, Kurt. Your dad's gotta know it too."

Kurt mentally gives Sam's props for steering his insecurity back toward a smile. Kurt flashes it at him and then drums his fingers on the table as the waitress takes away their plates. "Well, I could certainly help you in the clothing department."

Sam feels victorious seeing the smile again. It doesn't even look forced. He smiles back, playing with his straw. "Didn't know I needed help there."

"Oh, I'm not saying that the baby Hilfiger look isn't working for you, but we could tighten the leg on those jeans at least."

"Saying you want to see me in tighter pants, Hummel?" Sam's eyebrow lifts at the same angle as his smirk.

Despite the effect that expression has on his insides, Kurt manages to sound suave. "I don't know what you mean, I'm simply doing you a fashion service." 

The waitress sets the check down on her way past while Kurt is distracted making eyes at Sam from across the table, pulling out every stop shy of batting eyelashes.

"Oh, yeah, I'm sure." Sam retaliates with another wink. Then he makes a grab for the bill, sliding it over to himself before Kurt can protest. "Gimme that."

"What about the gift certificate?" Kurt's eyes dart from the bill to Sam and then back.

Sam is already placing a couple of creased twenties into the leather folder and shutting it as he answers with a false confidence. "We'll use it next time."

Kurt smiles, obviously deeply pleased by that response. Before he knows it, and still feeling almost lost in the surreal and incredible way this night has turned out, they're in the parking lot. Kurt has both of his hands resting on his satchel, one over the other, as it hangs in front of him. He does a bouncy half spin when they come alongside his truck, still beaming.

"This is me. I had a great time, Sam. ... I'd say I felt like Eliza Doolittle, but I don't think she drove a Navigator." 

Sam watches him with a small smile, then nods toward the truck. "Yeah, pretty intense car for a guy who claims not to like monster trucks. And I had an awesome time too, Kurt. Thanks for coming with me."

He pauses, tilting his head a little as he tries to place the reference. "Uh, is that the one who talks to animals?

Kurt's eyebrows lift, voice tilting. "Aaand _My Fair Lady_ gets added to the viewing list."

Sam laughs at the response and shrugs his hair back off his forehead. "Cool. Hope it doesn't start to annoy you that I don't know this stuff."

Kurt shakes his head, shrugging both shoulders up toward his ears with barely restrained excitement. "I do love a project, and the payoff looks to be more than worthwhile."

With that added encouragement, hands in his pockets, Sam shuffles a step forward. 

"Sooo... does that mean I get a second date?

Closer means Kurt's smile gets a little frozen, but only because he's trying to relearn how to breathe. His hands clutch at his satchel and his eyes are still on Sam's. He is impossibly handsome, and there is nothing out of place about the size of his mouth, and his eyes are so very bright and why is he suddenly remembering how Sam looked in the shower.

"I'd... say that's definitely a possibility, yes."

Sam considers himself a pretty confident guy most of the time, but Santana had put it best - he's got no game. Definitely is no smooth operator. But meeting Kurt's eyes, which are really freaking blue, and seeing the way he's smiling... it makes him wish he could be. He's just got to work with what he has. He bites his lip and then takes one more step, so there's very little distance. He slides one of his hands from his pockets and rests it on Kurt's arm before he ducks in and kisses him lightly. The first and only thought he's capable of: Kurt's lips might be even softer than his hands.

Kurt, meanwhile, is wondering frantically if Sam can tell that this is his first. It doesn't feel like one - it feels so much more natural than he'd heard it would be. They fit, and Kurt doesn't even need to think before closing his eyes and tipping his chin toward Sam as he feels their lips slide into place. 

All of the inexperience shows in what happens afterward. That kiss knocks his breath out, making him dizzy and he feels himself reeling, his eyes still closed, as they gently separate. Kurt lets go of his grip on his satchel with one hand to place it on Sam's hip, anything to steady him so he doesn't literally topple over, and his eyebrows lift to his hairline as he breathes out, audibly shaky. He can think of absolutely nothing to say. He has no words. 

Sam Evans just gave him his first kiss.

Sam's too busy trying to grab hold of his own spinning mind to notice that Kurt stumbles at all. He opens his eyes and feels the hand on his side and breathes out slowly. He lets his eyes lock on Kurt's again and smiles. His fingers tighten a fraction around Kurt's forearm.

"Um." He laughs, pink staining his cheeks as he lowers his hand. "Yeah. Good night, Kurt."

" _Night-_ " 

The word comes out squeaky and uneven, so Kurt clears his throat and tries again, still dazed.

"Night."

And he steps back toward his car, pale and red alternately and smiling dreamily. He practically has to pour himself into the driver's seat and then he sits there for a long moment, just smiling and shaking and breathing what feels like pure light in and out. Everything is about to change - he can feel it.


	2. Chapter 2

A week and a half later, they've been on three dates and even started sitting next to each other in glee. Sometimes Kurt will sit with Rachel or Mercedes, which is totally cool because Sam hangs with Finn or Puck or whoever, but more often than not they've snagged a couple of chairs beside each other and wondered if the others notice when they keep glancing beside them and smiling. At the end of the third date, Sam asks if they can be official now and the way Kurt lights up makes all of Ohio seem brighter. He does say, though, that they should hold off on any huge announcements. Just to avoid drama in glee club so close to sectionals. Which Sam thinks is fair enough.

Still, does 'no big announcement' mean he can't go meet Kurt at his locker after the final bell and walk with him to glee? Nope, he thinks it totally doesn't. He leans up against the adjacent locker and grins.

"Hi there."

"Batman returns." Kurt smiles slyly without looking toward Sam, sliding a textbook toward the back of the locker.

Sam snorts and shakes his head, which reminds him that his hair is getting too long. "Funny."

"You know what I think. I think... Batman could use some product." Kurt turns to smirk at Sam and shakes a can of hairspray threateningly.

"No no no no!" Sam laughs and holds his hands up in defense. "It hasn't recovered from the lemon yet, keep that junk away from me!"

Kurt grins as he playfully bats Sam's hands down, threatening him by tilting the can over his head. Their little battle is temporarily interrupted, though, by Kurt's shoulder abruptly impacting hard with Karofsky's as he walks by the pair. As Kurt recovers from the shock of the contact, he blinks at the retreating form. 

"My bad," Karofsky says, voice tight with sarcasm, holding up his hands before turning away.

In a blink, Sam's carefree grin is gone and he's lunging forward toward the retreating form.

" _Hey_!" 

He yanks at Karofsky's shoulder and manages to turn him, using that caught-off-guard moment to shove him back against the opposite lockers. Sam's eyes are narrow as he leans close, operating on instinct and the rage that had fired up deep inside when he'd seen the shock and hurt on Kurt's face.

"Touch him again and you won't be able to pick up a football till next year, I _swear_ to God."

" _Sam._ " Kurt's sharp tones ring out as he steps after the pair, not quite touching Sam's shoulder but wanting to. Karofsky shoves Sam's hands off of him and forces him to stumble back a step but doesn't go for him otherwise, content to brush off his jersey while glaring him down.

"Think you can fool everybody by acting tough, like everyone doesn't know what you're hiding. Pair of princesses."

Kurt's hand hesitates in the air, but his chin then lifts and his palm lands firmly on Sam's shoulder, looking at him rather than at Karofsky's suspicious glare.

"Please. This isn't worth it."

Sam doesn't look behind him, just feels the hand on his shoulder and tries to chill. But he just can't. No way. There's no chilling in this situation, because what Karofsky just said? It's everything he'd wanted to stamp out the second he came out. He's not trying to fool anyone, he doesn't want to fool anyone. There's nothing he's hiding. And he doesn't take shit from assholes like Dave Karofsky. He steps away from Kurt's touch.

"Yeah? What am I hiding then, huh, Karofsky? What is it? What do you think I'm so afraid of showing you people? This?"

Sam whirls back around, grabs Kurt's hand, and yanks him into a kiss. Kind of a hard one, considering they're in the middle of the school hallway. He pulls back decisively and smiles at Kurt, just for a second, before his attention goes back to the neanderthal and the now-gawking crowd that's formed around them.

"Yeah. News flash for you, Chewy. I've got nothin' to hide."

Kurt... definitely wasn't expecting that. Not for a second. He falls back onto his feet after the kiss, dazed, his fingers reaching up slowly to touch his lips. He's not... upset, exactly. The gesture was obviously one of pride and affection, and intensely theatrical, which he is at least theoretically partial to in romantic gestures. But, in front of everyone. Just like that, they're out as a couple, and Sam is dramatically out of the closet, and everyone is staring, and Karofsky is looking at Sam with a loathing in his eyes that is actually terrifying in intensity. Certainly more than the moment seems to merit, but who is Kurt to judge homophobia by degree. Dave's eyes slide, just for a moment, from Sam to Kurt and he gets chills. Then Karofsky's shoving off through the crowd, muttering something about this not being over, and throwing a punch at a locker as he passes that clangs loudly in the air.

And Kurt is heading in the opposite direction, power walking, his cheeks neon and his eyes on the floor of the hallway. He can feel everybody staring and it makes him pick up speed until he pushes hard through the doors that lead (of course) into the auditorium where he finally lets himself breathe, pacing in little circles, his heart racing.

It takes Sam a second to recover too - after all, it had sort of been a heat of the moment thing and now there's like, a lot of people looking at him. And it's whatever. He's fine with it, he never lied to Kurt about that. He looks from Karofsky's enraged face, to the crowd, back to Karofsky before he realizes Kurt's gone. He'd yanked him in and kissed him in public which was pretty much the one thing Kurt had asked him not to do and now he's gone. Shit.

"Kurt! Kurt, wait up!"

He turns around as he jogs after him, throws one more glare at Karofsky's back, hoping it's showing all of the strength and pride and the 'suck on that, asswipe' that he's feeling. Then he puts on speed and pushes through the auditorium doors.

As soon as Sam enters the auditorium after him, Kurt turns toward him, still rocking anxiously on his feet, one arm clutched around his waist and the other hand lifted toward his mouth, almost tempted to ruin that home manicure with nailbiting. He doesn't look angry, just. Scared. Petrified.

"What the _hell_ was that?"

Sam skids to a stop as the door bangs shut behind him. He holds up his hands, clearly too caught up to notice that there's a difference between scared-face and angry-face. 

"I'm sorry! Okay man, I'm- I'm sorry. I didn't mean- well, I did but I had to. You heard him Kurt, he was... he was acting like I had something to be ashamed of and I don't, I'm not ashamed and I wanted to show it. I'm sorry, I totally crossed a line and... disrespected you, and I'll totally get it if you want to just call this whole thing off. I mean I don't want you to. But I'll get it."

"They'll _kill_ us, Sam, they'll..."

Kurt paces away with a loud breath of frustration. He manages only a few steps before he's turning back again.

"People don't do that here. Maybe it was less of an issue at your old school, but I've gotten bruises that I've needed to explain away since _freshman year_."

Sam's quiet and his expression is drawn tight.

"I told you I won't let them give us crap."

Then he pauses, looking up again and shaking his head, the defeated tone leaving his voice. 

"Kurt, look, they'll- they already messed with you. They messed with you before they even knew for sure you were gay and they messed with me before today. It doesn't matter what we do, jerks like that are gonna start shit anyway. So why are we letting them win? Why are we saying, okay, we can like guys but we get that you need us to duck our heads and not show you? _Screw_ it, if I'm gonna get shoved into a locker I want it to be for kissing my boyfriend and not because some jerk told some other jerk I looked at him in the shower!"

Kurt stares at Sam, still shaky and hugging both arms around himself now, but at least standing still. He sucks in his bottom lip briefly, his voice small when it emerges.

"It might never get better. We could try to be brave, and they could still keep winning, for the rest of our lives."

Sam steps closer now that Kurt's not walking in circles. He was kind of making Sam dizzy before, but now he's just kind of making his heart hurt.

"Only way to guarantee that is to never change anything, right?"

He pauses, remembering how his stupid impressions always get a smile out of Kurt. And his Yoda is probably particularly stupid.

"'Fear is the path to the dark side. Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering!'” 

Kurt looks down to his feet before slowly breaking into a smile, then chuckling and shaking his head. _Alright, it worked. Sam wins._

Sam watches him closely, starting to smile himself once he sees it on Kurt's lips. He reaches for Kurt's wrist and grasps it lightly.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that without you agreeing. I know it's kinda... out there now and we can't take it back, but for whatever it's worth I'm sorry."

Kurt takes a step forward, then another and then leans down to rest his head on Sam's shoulder. _Three dates. Three dates shouldn't feel like this, but it does._ After a breath, his voice is much stronger.

"No going back. We are who we are."

Sam knows how he feels. After all, that thing he'd felt when he first saw Kurt, and that intensified during Kurt's 'duet,' that was enough to make him totally flip over his whole plan for his new school and he hasn't regretted it for a second. So yeah, pretty strong feelings. He slides his hand down into Kurt's and squeezes.

"I like who we are, Kurt."

Kurt smiles and pulls back, squeezing Sam's hand in return before carefully reaching up with his other to flick a piece of Sam's hair and make it follow the swoop of his bangs.

"Well, we _are_ fabulous. We might as well show it."

Sam's smile grows into a grin. He looks at Kurt, admiring for another few seconds before he leans down that inch to kiss him. When they gentle separate, his tone is innocent and hopeful.

"So... you're not mad at me?"

Kurt lingers after the kiss, still swept away enough by getting those, and from Sam, to pause and appreciate each one. "Mm. You may have noticed that I appreciate the merits of a grand, stupid romantic gesture."

As Kurt opens his eyes, his lips pull just barely into a smile and then he begins to sing quietly. The song is one that Sam is only recently familiar with, thanks to their most recent movie date.

" _You... are my lucky star. I... saw you from afar._ "

 _Yup. Like a million times better than Faith Hill_. Sam squeezes Kurt's hands and laughs, bashful.

" _Two eyes..._ I... crap, don't remember all the words."

Kurt chuckles and shakes his head, his nose brushing Sam's. "We'll work on it. And your waltzing, while we're at it."

He keeps one of those hands in Sam's as they move toward the door. Kurt tries not to panic as they approach the light of the hallway, trying to brace himself for the first time the school will see them, really see them, like this. Sam squeezes his hand just before they push through the doors, whispering into Kurt's ear. 

"Use the force, Luke." 

For whatever reason, it works. Kurt's chin lifts and he steps with Sam into the light and the noise of McKinley.

As they walk down the hallway, the eyes follow. It's still an instinct to be afraid, and Kurt's hand might be a little tight in Sam's as a response. But there's a shield around him now, Kurt can feel it. They're out, they're proud. McKinley will have to get over it. Kurt's jaw is set and he feels pride filling him rather than terror.

That is, until they reach the choir room. The entire glee club is on their feet, talking excitedly over top of one another when they enter. Finn sees them first and stalks toward them, aiming a finger at Sam.

"What the _hell_ , dude? I heard you attacked him with your _mouth_!" 

Rachel's bustles toward Kurt, coming in from the other side. "I heard Karofsky tried to choke you, how are your vocal chords, harmonize with me-"

Santana's voice rings out over top of the pandemonium. " _I'm_ disappointed, I heard Sam got put in juvie for trying to stab Karofsky." 

Somewhere Brittany speaks, mostly to herself. "I think gay prison sounds nice. It would smell better than the other kinds. Like sprinkles."

Then Tina. "So you two were, like, _making out_ , hardcore - that's what I heard."

Possibly Santana again? "Watch out, Finn, Quinn's lips turn boys into dude-lovers."

And Kurt just stands there, sort of aghast, and still clutching Sam's hand while they both stare around the room. Sam's head is kinda spinning. No like, it might actually just fly off his neck and launch itself into the drum set across the room. Which would actually be pretty sick. No such luck though. His head stays attached and they all just keep talking. He feels Kurt's soft hand getting tense and clammy in his, and in a second it's all too overwhelming and instead of his head flying off, he just yells, his free hand held up.

" _Okay!_ Everybody just - shut up for a second!"

The room goes silent. Great. Now they're all just staring at him.

"First things first. I dunno what you guys have heard, but at least one thing's true. Me and Kurt are dating. Anyone have an issue with that?" 

Sam looks a little more pointedly at Finn than he means to. So sue him. It's been a long day.

Finn looks kind of dumbfounded and Kurt is staring at him with a defiant kind of fear, but definitely still fear, in his eyes. He doesn't like Kurt looking at him like that. He never meant for that to happen, he just wanted... to protect everybody, from each other and from other people. But if even half of what he heard happened out there actually went down, it seems pretty obvious that Sam knows what he's doing, what he wants, and what he's getting into and he has for a lot longer than he assumed. So... maybe he was wrong.

"I mean... if you guys are sure," Finn says lamely, instead of even half the stuff he'd been thinking.

Kurt takes a step forward, glancing at Sam but then smirking with an edge of triumph.

"I think I can say that we're sure."

Rachel is at his side, clutching at his free hand suddenly, grinning at him like a loon. A loon who is desperate for withheld gossip. In the back, Santana raises a hand, eyebrow lifted.

"Yeah, I have a problem - since when are you _gay_? Or do you make an exception for head cheerleaders."

Quinn, who has been silent during this entire tirade, legs tightly crossed, looks at the wall intently. It's not really a surprising question. Especially not coming out of Santana. Sam's kind of more concerned with Quinn's reaction, but he turns back to Santana after sparing a worried glance.

"Um... since never? I'm bi." 

It's not often he actually says it out loud in those exact terms. Even with Kurt, he'd just answered yes when Kurt asked. But when he says it, it counts. Like right now. There's a moment as the news is taken in, a few people going, "ohhh," and a sort of dangerous smirk from Santana, and then the semi-silence is broken by Brittany.

"You buy what?"

Sam looks at Brittany, then decides he'll save the explaining for someone else to do. He looks to Quinn again, still nervous. She meets his eyes now but he can't really tell what hers are saying. He doesn't like that he might have hurt her. He really had connected with her on some level, and he cares about her. Just not the way he'd thought he could. Which brings him back to Kurt. He glances over at him and smiles, just as Mr. Schue hurries through the door.

"Sorry guys, had trouble getting your sheet music printed but I'm really excited to get started on this. And Sam, what's this I heard about you macing Dave Karofsky with hairspray?"

Sam snorts and shakes his head, tugging Kurt's hand toward the chairs.

Rehearsal is a blur. Kurt is sitting next to Sam and holding his hand and they're discussing possibilities for the school musical. He has a boyfriend. A boyfriend who is proud to be with him and nearly decked someone in his honor, which would have been a very bad idea, but still gives him chills that he will be keeping a secret. They whisper comments to each other, bump shoulders. It's real, this is real.

When the lecture is done with, Kurt's attention is dominated immediately by Rachel. Quinn, however, surprisingly, stands up, hugging her binder to her chest, and promptly stands in front of Sam.

"Can we talk?"

Sam's eyes are wide with worry, but he nods. "Um. Yeah-- yes. Course."

He follows her out into the now-empty hallway. He'd figured this talk was coming. He wanted to talk to her, even. But he's had no time to figure out what to say, and Sam's not good at this kind of thing even when he has time to prepare.

"So... guess you probably wanna yell at me, huh?"

Quinn turns toward Sam a little bit sharply, but her eyes aren't burning with that vindictive fury that light the fire under those big Bambi doe-s. She stares at him for a moment before replying.

"Why didn't you tell me that you wanted Kurt?"

Sam bites his lip. She doesn't look too scary, and Sam knows that Quinn can be scary. He also knows she can switch gears pretty quick, so he should still tread carefully.

"I guess I just... didn't know how much I did. And then when I figured it out I tried not to at first."

"Is that what it was with me?" Her head tilts and her eyes drop down and then come back up to his, still difficult to read. "Just... trying not to want him?"

"No! I didn't- I mean... I never wanted to use you."

Sam pauses, because that's not totally true, is it? If he's being honest.

"I mean yeah, I guess I thought... I felt like being the new kid would be easier if I was with you. But I also really did like you. You're beautiful and smart and really brave. We just... you didn't feel it either, did you?"

Quinn scoffs (in a very ladylike way) and rolls her eyes as her head shakes. "No. No, that brief dream died when you talked blue cat to me. Adorable, but not hot."

Sam's face wrinkles in disbelief. "Can't believe you just called the Na'vi blue cats. They're a noble and powerful race of warriors, Quinn."

Surprisingly, Quinn's lips begin to curve into a smile. She tilts her chin at Sam, hair brushing her shoulder. "He likes you. The real you, I can tell. And you like him."

Surprisingly is right. Sam raises his eyebrows, expecting the catch to come any second. When it doesn't, he manages a smile back.

"Yeah. I do. Like... a lot." He laughs, glancing away.

"I'm happy for you." She lifts her nose into the air decisively, still smiling. "I was figuring out who I was when I met you. Still am, as a matter of fact. We weren't right for each other, but you still helped me remember how to laugh. And... if you promise to tell me the truth from now on, then I'd like to officially throw my hat in on the Sam... Kurt support team." 

"Really?" Sam grins, widely enough that his eyes crinkle. Though the rest of the club hadn't seemed adverse to the whole thing once the initial shock had faded, Sam still isn't sure where they all stand. And it feels really, really good to hear Quinn come right out and give her support. "Thanks! Yeah, I promise." 

He steps forward and wraps her in a hug, not like the ones he's given Kurt but... nice in a totally different way. Which is, apparently, just fine with her. He lets her go and steps back to grin at her, hands in pockets.

"You're a great girl, Quinn. You deserve to laugh and you deserve someone who's totally yours. But... it would be really cool if we could be friends."

She nods, her smile enigmatic as usual, but with honesty there. "You can count on it." 

Kurt exits the choir room in time to see Quinn walk away down the hallway, her ponytail swishing. He stands beside Sam, watching her and envying that gorgeous bitch's swag before turning to his boyfriend and asking in a purposefully sly way:

"Will Miss Fabray pose a problem? I may not be able to manhandle football players, but I might be able to take out a cheerleader if necessary."

Sam watches her leave, then turns to Kurt with a small smile. He feels about a billion times lighter.

"Nope, no worries. No taking out cheerleaders in any sense of the word." He nudges him. "Unless _you_ wanted back on the squad."

"It's no secret that they're at a loss without me." Kurt serves him an eyebrow flex, followed by a look down and a muted chuckle. 

Sam laughs in response, reaching for one of Kurt's hands. "C'mon, we might as well make the whole cheerleader-footballer shebang out of this, right? Go big or go home?"

Kurt lifts his gaze, still smiling, but with a more intent glint in his eyes.

"...What are you doing tonight?"

Sam's thumb moves over the back of Kurt's hands as one of his eyebrows lifts. 

"Was thinking I could hang out with my boyfriend and maybe he'd finally confirm my relationship request on Facebook?"

Kurt goes one more and takes both of Sam's hands, facing across from him, his expression a little bit devious and a little bit innocent.

"Well, before we make it Facebook official... I think you should meet my dad."

That makes Sam's smile drop real quick.

"Uh, but don't I need to be like, alive for you to be Facebook official with me?"

Kurt's eyes roll and his lips purse in a smirk. "I told you already that he'll love you, don't be melodramatic. Come over for dinner tonight."

"You said he'd love to have me as a _son_ , not his son's boyfriend." Sam shifts on his feet, but come on. As if he could really say no, especially with the pout Kurt is suddenly fixing him with. He lets out a mock groan toward the ceiling, barely hiding his smile.

"Fiiiine, what time do you want me there?"

"Six." Kurt beams triumphantly and bounces briefly up onto his toes. "Arrive hungry and ready to talk football."

Sam snorts. "That's kinda my default setting dude." He shuts his eyes briefly, having caught himself in the act. "I've really gotta stop calling you dude."

Kurt chuckles as he relinquishes Sam's hands to adjust his bag. "Has every boyfriend been your 'dude'?"

"Yeah. All one of them." Sam flashes a grin at him.

He'd been wondering. Kurt gets subtly pink when he earns the response he'd secretly been hoping for and rewards it by stepping closer and lowering his voice, playing with the buckle on the strap of Sam's backpack.

"We'll just have to find something else you can call me."

And that's about as close as Kurt Hummel gets to innuendo. He steps back again, gives Sam another smile and glance, and then sashays down the hallway toward his next class. Sam is left standing in the hallway, totally red and wide-eyed, until the warning bell snaps him out of it and he hurries to class. He knows he'll get looks from classmates and teachers alike, but the truth is he probably won't even notice. He's got a dinner date tonight, and it is waaay more nervewracking than any high school awkwardness could be.

Their dinner that night goes alarmingly well. Burt is, obviously, a bit taken aback when their dinner guest is announced as his son's 'boyfriend' and it takes a little while for him to stop glancing at Sam skeptically. Kurt does his best, though, to steer the conversation toward country music and sports and soon he's sitting there, smiling silently, as his dad and Sam laugh and gossip about sports. Well, not gossip... what is it called when you argue about people throwing balls around anyway.

As dinner winds down, Kurt takes it upon himself to clear the table. The plates are clean, which means his cooking was well appreciated and his father's appetite is back in full force. He balances the tower gracefully as he steps into the kitchen and Burt's laughter dies down as he watches. Then he turns to look at Sam thoughtfully.

"C'mon. I wanna show you something."

He stands, still a little slower than he usually would be about it, but healed enough to make it on his own as he leads the way towards the den.

Sam had accidentally been watching Kurt too with a small smile as he left the room, and Burt's voice snaps him out of it. He turns to him, eyes wide. Things had gone well, hadn't they? He'd thought they'd gotten along! But what could 'show you something' mean other than a rifle? Shit, shit, shit, what had he said that screwed everything up? Had Burt thought he was looking at Kurt's butt just then? Cause he totally wasn't. Or, not really anyway, or... not that much!

"Oh - uh, okay." Sam gets up from his seat, wondering just how much panic is showing through, and follows Burt.

Burt leads Sam toward a portrait that sits on the mantle. In it, a brunette wearing a blouse printed with green flowers is bent over a baby wearing a blue knit cap with a tiny little brim. Burt leans against the wall and taps the frame with a finger before nodding at Sam.

"Kurt tell you about his mom?"

Sam joins him in front of the picture. He knows who is in it... it makes his heart feel a little heavy, but makes him want to smile all at once. Kurt really does look like her. He just nods, his panic ebbing away.

"Yes sir. A little."

"He's like her." Burt looks back at the picture, wishing his new health regimen included beer. He could use one for this talk.

"She was brave, and kind. Good heart. Tends to go out... and chase dreams, even if they might not work out. I like to think the kind of guy who deserves Kurt is like that too. "

Sam's not sure what to say to that. He doesn't want to say the person Burt's describing isn't him. But does that type of person know he's like that? And if he does, and says so, doesn't that make him sound like kind of a tool anyway? He can't just tell Kurt's dad he knows he's the guy who deserves Kurt.

"I... I agree, sir."

Clearly that was a test, and Sam doesn't seem to have outright failed yet. Burt turns to look at him and fixes him with that worried coach-frown.

"But chasing his kinda dreams comes with a price. I just hope you know what kind of thing you two are getting into with this. Not everybody's gonna understand him, or this. Some of those people who don't get it, might try to push back."

Sam straightens under Burt's stare instinctively. "You don't have to worry about that, Mr. Hummel. I know the kind of morons we go to school with and I'm not afraid of them. Nobody's gonna lay a finger on Kurt, that's a promise, sir. "

Burt looks at Sam slant, holding up a finger toward him.

"Now, make sure you mean that, son... because this is your responsibility now, and I don't mean to scare you. But this is what you're buying into, and I need to know you will watch him when I can't."

"I mean it."

The answer had come without much forethought and with no hesitation. Which is good, because Sam doesn't feel any.

"He's safe with me. I'm not dumb, sir, and I'm from Tennessee. Lot of what they say about the south is true. I was lucky and my family is great but... I've dealt with this crap before and McKinley's nothing new. Those people haven't changed, but I have. I can fight back now, in more ways than one, and I know I won't lose, cause now... I'm fighting for something more important than me."

Burt looks at Sam with a sniff, a genuine smile, and then lifts a hand to clap it on his shoulder. It's not fair that it has to be this way. If he could, he'd change it for these two, cause he can tell when a kid has something real inside of him worth protecting. But this life is tough. Just when it seems like he's going to say something truly paternal and heartfelt to Sam, Kurt enters the room with a curious half-grin on his face.

"Did I miss something?"

Sam finds himself returning Burt's smile, still a little nervous but feeling like he's managed to secure Burt Hummel's blessing, in not so many words. And that's really, super important. He likes Burt a lot from what he's seen tonight, and he's the most important person to Kurt, which means his approval is pretty much necessary. He could feel it in that clap on the shoulder, and Sam silently promises himself that he won't do anything to screw it up.

"Kurt!" He turns and grins at his boyfriend, who totally doesn't need to know about the mano-e-mano chat that just went down. Mostly because he'd bite Sam's head off for it and that's scary. Kurt wouldn't like them worrying about protecting him like that. "Your dad was just showing me how different your fashion sense used to be."

Kurt rolls his eyes as he steps toward them, aiming a narrow look at them both. "Baby pictures. Seriously."

He turns a wide, blatantly false smile on his father. "Dad, don't you think it's time to rest? You know how much the doctors recommended rest."

Burt chuckles but waves his hands in the air. "Alright, alright, I know when to admit defeat." He holds out a hand toward Sam. "Good to meet you, Sam."

Sam laughs and shakes it firmly. "Nice to meet you too, Mr. Hummel." 

And he really, really means it. But heads out of the room and presumably upstairs to bed, or to pretend he's going to bed anyway. Sam puts his hands in his pockets and shifts his weight a couple times before meeting Kurt's eyes.

"So... that didn't go horribly wrong."

Kurt does a little step forward that involves looking away and clasping his own hands behind his back.

"Do I want to know what you two were talking about?"

"Told you. Baby pictures." Sam grins with wide, innocent eyes.

"Oh, I'm sure." 

Kurt smirks and then reaches out to touch the very edge of Sam's shirt. He has this strange glow around him. Maybe because this finally feels real. All of the important people in his life know now, there's no more huge secret hanging over them. Now comes what feels like the important pieces of it. Now comes... having a boyfriend.

Sam glances down at the hand at his shirt, and takes that as a cue to step just a little closer. He smiles, watching Kurt's face and the way his eyes are kind of shining. Kurt Hummel's _seriously_ gorgeous. Anybody who doesn't see that is both blind and stupid, Sam decides.

"You seem happy."

"I am."

And yet he's getting all choked up, and that is probably going to freak Sam right out and make him rethink altering Facebook statuses, but Kurt can't stop that shine in his eyes from getting a little damp when he looks up at Sam.

"...I feel like I've been waiting. And now you're finally here."

Sam's head spins. Maybe it hadn't flown off in the choir room but he definitely thinks his heart is gonna explode out of his chest any minute now. The way Kurt is looking at him... like he's some kind of magical fairy tale prince or something, and he doesn't feel like one, he just feels like Sam. Sam-I-am, who's dyslexic and kind of awkward and just happens to have hair that flips. But he could get used to the way Kurt is looking at him, even if he doesn't really know why he is, when it's Kurt who came in and turned over Sam's world with a smile and 60 mp3s of himself singing.

He's probably not supposed to question it. He can do that later. Now, he's gonna touch his boyfriend's cheek and then kiss him.

 _Well,_ Kurt thinks, _this is certainly better than looking at him funny and fleeing from him for being a weepy melodramatic romantic._ Kurt leans in toward Sam to kiss back, turning that one into three more, each progressively more urgent before pulling back and breathing in and out to settle himself. He manages to clear his throat and whisper, though he's tempted to keep going.

"If you don't go now... you might end up jeopardizing that hard-won paternal goodwill."

Sam groans quietly in the back of his throat, flushed and making no immediate move to back away. 

"Is that supposed to make me wanna leave?"

 _This is a lot of... power to suddenly have,_ Kurt realizes, as a shudder travels through his insides hitting every major muscle group on its way. He is enough to make Sam want to stay, and to want... more.

Which isn't to say that Kurt knows at all what 'more' would be or what that vague innuendo actually could refer to. This is a whole world that having a boyfriend is suddenly opening up, especially a boyfriend who clearly finds him attractive in addition to a master wit and a talented performer. But for everyone's sake - his nerves included - Kurt gives Sam one more fast peck to the cheek and then backs away, his arms wrapping around himself and his smiling face a bit red.

"Goodnight, Sam I Am."

Sam takes another couple of steadying breaths, then shoots Kurt a crooked grin. _Sam I Am_. Might just be a stupid Doctor Seuss rhyme he never stopped repeating, but coming from Kurt like that, somehow it sounds like the sweetest pet name in the world. He holds up a hand in the air in a still wave before dropping it and backing out of the room.

"Night, Kurt."


	3. Chapter 3

When Mr. Schue enters glee club the next day, the last thing anyone expects him to insist that they perform is _Rocky Horror_. Kurt's eyebrows lift to his upswept hairline and he lets out half of a laugh as he looks toward Sam before realizing, it is very possible that Sam has no idea what _Rocky Horror_ even is. His amused smirk is only a teensy bit apparent as he pats Sam's knee. He'll find out soon enough, especially if he's playing the Creature. _Wait, gold shorts. Right. Sam will be nearly naked. Sam will be... mm._

Kurt is already distracted and just faintly pink by the time Schue says, "and, obviously, Kurt, you would be _perfect_ for Frank-N-Furter." So he has to blink a few times before realizing what he would in turn be wearing, and what Schue just said, and then he raises a finger into the air.

"Excuse me - _obviously_? So, because a character wears a corset and fishnets and I'm gay, those two necessarily go hand in hand."

Sam glances quickly over at Kurt, surprised. Not that he doesn't totally understand Kurt's argument and find it totally awesome that he'd spoken up about it, he's also just kind of confused. Mr. Schue made it sound like this was a huge part and hasn't Kurt been waiting forever for a starring role? Plus Kurt wears crazy stuff all the time. How much worse could this be? This movie must be a pretty big deal, to get everyone all riled up like this.

Santana makes some snippy remark about Kurt not wanting to wear the costume because it's too last season, and Sam turns and glares at her. He's been on edge with her since the day he came out. He holds his retort back, though, and Schue, surprised at Kurt's outburst, says that Kurt doesn't need to take the part if he doesn't want to. 

But that doesn't... that isn't really what's upsetting. Why is he the only one who sees it? Kurt's voice shakes, just perceptibly, as he turns in his chair to address the room at large.

"Nobody has a problem then, with my _boyfriend_ playing the heterosexual symbol of lust while I'm held up for mockery. As if anyone would treat me like anything but comic relief in that outfit."

There's a moment of stunned silence, which is exactly the sort of response Kurt seems to have expected. He stands abruptly, rolling his eyes.

"At least you could have your stereotypes in order if you're going to keep me in a box."

Kurt grabs his bag and sweeps imperiously toward the door. As it slams behind him, Mike Chang speaks up, thoroughly confused. "So... do we have a Frank N Furter or not?"

Sam finds himself just watching it all go down, totally failing to say or do anything and then feeling like the world's shittiest boyfriend for it.

"I'll handle this Mr. Schue," he hears Rachel announce as she starts to get up from her chair. "One room-storming diva to another."

Sam shakes himself out of his stupor just in time. "No! Thanks but um. I've got this one, Rachel." He stands and rushes down the steps of the risers and through the door.

Kurt is leaning against the wall directly outside of the choir room, arms folded tightly as he stares at the ground and tries to work out his tangled frustration. There's definitely some embarrassment, or his cheeks wouldn't be so pink. Not just that, but... fear. Fear of what, is the question, and it's one he's not sure he wants to answer. When Sam appears, Kurt looks briefly at him and then away. He doesn't even know what to say. _God, such a drama queen._

Sam bites his lip as he goes to lean on the wall beside him. He shoves his hands in his pockets and tries to figure out what he's supposed to do now. He sucks at this, really does. Least he can usually get Kurt to laugh though, right?

"Rachel's mad, she thinks you're stealing her thunder." Small smile?

It succeeds - Kurt closes his eyes and breathes out a chuckle, then turns to Sam. "The ignorance in that room is stifling."

Sam turns to better face him too, feeling a little thrill of victory. They're talking now, at least. "I don't really have a clue what anyone was talking about with this whole _Rocky Horror_ thing. Or why I have to wear gold hot pants. But maybe that's not how they meant it?"

"Of course, you wouldn't have seen it." Kurt smirks and nudges Sam's toe with his, then launches into a semi-monotone plot recital, hand waving in the air.

"It's a sexy science fiction B movie musical. Dr. Frank-N-Furter is a transvestite from another planet who creates Rocky, the Creature, before blah Brad and Janet show up. Janet falls for Rocky, Frank-N-Furter does the nasty with _everyone_ while wearing heels, a garter belt, and fishnet tights, and then sings a supremely strange solo about living your dreams."

"O... kay." Sam looks upward with a slow frown, trying to work all that out in his head. "It. Sounds kinda weird. Why do we want to do it again?"

"Because Mr. Schue has, yet again, gone insane." Kurt breaths out a huff and lifts a hand, fingers brushing his collarbone for a second before they flick away. "Not to say that it isn't also... groundbreaking, and hilarious, but still."

"Oh. Well, that sounds okay then." Also, it's kind of mesmerizing when Kurt does things like that. That little... touching thing. "So, it's a pretty big part then, huh? The guy Schue wanted you to play?" At least that, he got.

"It's the lead." Kurt gives Sam a pointed look before returning to inspecting the floor.

Sam's brows lift and he tries to duck and shift to catch Kurt's eyes. "But... you'd have to wear fishnets and stuff. And you don't like that?"

Kurt fidgets uncomfortably under Sam's gaze, definitely not meeting it.

"First of all... I am not a transvestite, and there is not a single person in that room who seems to understand the difference." 

There's a pause where Kurt seems to try to figure out what else to say, how to answer that question, to come up with his 'second' of all. His tongue runs between his lips as his face gets pinker and pinker and he shakes his head finally, his voice uneven as the truth comes tumbling out with more stammering and hesitation than he's really okay with displaying in front of others, _especially_ Sam.

"... I'm not sexy. I... don't know how to be. For you, it's easy, and that's why you're Rocky, but _nobody_ wants me to play this part because they think I'd look alluring in a corset."

"You don't think you're sexy?"

Sam had been planning to address the first issue, say something about how they probably didn't mean he was a transvestite, just that he's braver with clothes than anybody else, but Kurt's confession stops him short and he has to get to that first.

Kurt rolls his eyes, closes them, and touches his forehead with two of his fingers, trying to screen his burning face from the entire world, if possible. His voice is tight and guarded. "Do we have to talk about this?"

"Uh, yeah, we do." Sam frowns at him, firm but concerned. "Why don't you think you're sexy?"

Embarrassment is starting to turn into deep discomfort. This was something he was really hoping to wait until they'd been dating for longer to get into, if they ever had to get into it at all, and now Sam is going to know everything and is going to look disgusted at how insecure Kurt is under all of his bravado and he's going to start to pull away, _why_ won't he just let this drop? _Damn Mr. Schue._ Kurt winces, practically squirming under Sam's gaze, eyes on the wall, on the floor, anywhere but on Sam, and he feels his jaw tense until the words struggle out.

"Because I can't- I can't even talk about sex without turning a very unattractive shade of red, and how is it possible to be seductive when there isn't anyone who has ever wanted to... be seduced." He opens his eyes to look at Sam, almost pleadingly, his pride clearly shattered. "There's always a fade to a fireplace whenever someone so much as... touches someone else's arm in a musical, it's all about the romance of performance. That's what I know. That's... _all_ I know."

Sam nods, staring at him, still kinda dumbfounded. He gets it, once Kurt says it, but it's still hard to actually believe. It's weird though, because in the exact same moment that he feels the intense need to correct Kurt, he also feels a wave of affection strong enough to topple a guy over. Kurt shouldn't be wondering about being sexy, he should be wondering how it's possible to be so sweet and adorable while also being incredibly hot at the same time.

"...Well, all _I_ know is, I think you're totally sexy." No fanfare, simple as that. "And... it's an awesome shade of red."

That shade gets deeper, but Kurt eventually smiles at Sam, eyes darting toward him first before he slides closer to bump shoulders with him. _It isn't true,_ he thinks. _But he's here. He's still standing right here, at least so far._ After a second's hesitation, Kurt leans his head sideways onto Sam's shoulder.

"You think I should do it."

As Kurt's head comes to settle on his shoulder, Sam slips his hand into Kurt's and squeezes.

"Not if you still have a problem with... the other thing. Cause you had a point and it's not fair of them to assume stuff like that. But if it's just the sexy thing... I gotta say yeah, I don't want you to give up a lead part because of that, especially since it's so not true." 

"Give up a lead role for my principals or deal with potential crossdresser jeers for the rest of my school career."

Kurt thinks for a moment. It's true that he's genuinely offended by how Schue and the rest of the glee club is acting toward him. For a group of supposed outcasts, they carry a lot of prejudice and ignorance around under surface acceptance. But this is a lead. A lead. He could sing the lead, if only he can imagine the school seeing his ... ugh. Bare limbs.

Is that it, then? Because he knows he can be fierce with three layers on, that isn't a problem. Is this all about the costume, really?

Kurt lifts his head suddenly and pulls Sam by the hand back toward the choir room, shoving through the doors with head held high and stopping by the piano.

"I'll do it. But I'm altering the costume." He announces this to the room at large, crossing his arms primly, a smile on his lips. He can do this. Mostly because of Sam, and they way he'd said _you're totally sexy_ with such absolute confidence, but he can do this.

There's a pause in conversation as everyone freezes, and then Mr. Schue nods, smiling a little at Kurt. "That's fine, Kurt. I'm glad to hear it, I think you're going to be fantastic."

Sam links his fingers more tightly with Kurt's and grins at him as they go back to their seats. He's never known anyone else who's so in touch with what he wants, what's right for him, or who isn't afraid to say it. He can't help it, he's proud of him... and also pretty damn excited to see what he's gonna end up wearing. If this play is half as raunchy and the character is half as risque as everyone's acting like they are... _yeah. It'll be... nice to see. Right. Nice._

As for his own part... well, Sam's just gonna have to double his daily workout routine until the show. He's pretty sure just this morning he saw some extra chub around his waist, no way he can go onstage shirtless like that.

They don't have long to get ready - partly because most of them know the musical fairly well already, so the staging is on an accelerated timeline. First dress rehearsal of the first castle scene is in two days, which means Kurt will need to sew and choreograph like a demon. Yet after school, he's held up because Sam is mysteriously absent from their scheduled goodbye kiss spot under the east tree. Kurt checks his phone every two seconds, looking about and frowning, before finally deciding that this is worth investigating, even if it means stitching until midnight.

The first place Kurt checks is, understandably, the locker room. It's not an entirely foreign place to him due to his stint as kicker, but it still gives him some uncomfortable chills due to the very threatening glares he's been receiving from Karofsky lately. Kurt tiptoes through the first winding hallway and then through the maze of lockers toward the weights, arching his neck back and forth to peer for his boyfriend.

_Sixty seven, sixty eight, sixty nine..._

Sam keeps up the crunches in rapid succession. It's his third set of them (each of a hundred), then it's time to go back to the bench press. His stomach is the main problem but his arms are looking kinda jiggly recently too. _Stupid extra pizza slice last week, not to mention the Cool Ranch Doritos_. His stomach was sore already from yesterday's workout and now it's screaming a little but he's gotta keep at this if he doesn't want to make people throw up when he gets on stage. _Ain't no carpool lane to sexy._

When Kurt sees Sam, his first instinct is to start to sweat a little himself. There's a nice sheen on those taut and straining biceps, and Kurt can see the muscles curling rhythmically over Sam's ribs through the gaps in his tank. He blinks, very very glad there's no one else in the locker room to see them, and then hesitantly clears his throat.

Sam sits up quickly, dropping his arms to the mat. "Kurt!" His eyes go from Kurt to the clock on the other side of the wall as it dawns on him. "Shit! I'm late. I'm sorry man I totally lost track of time."

From "dude, I think you're sexy" to "aw man, I missed our makeout session." Kurt smiles, oddly charmed by that as he eyes up the empty gym around them.

"Are you... competing in a marathon that I'm unaware of?"

Suddenly conscious of being all sweaty and gross in front of Kurt, Sam grabs the towel he'd draped over the closest bench and starts wiping at his neck and hair.

"Yeah, just the kind where you have to stand half naked in front of a thousand people instead of running."

Kurt scoffs gently, clearly taken aback. "Sweetie, you already look photoshopped, what are you trying to accomplish here."

Sam always smiles when Kurt calls him that. He pretty much calls all his friends sweetie, but Sam knows it's different for him. The pleasant tingle only lasts for so long this time, though, thanks to the subject at hand.

"You're kidding, right? Did you see those shorts? My rolls are gonna be hanging all over the place."

For a second, Kurt tries to believe Sam is joking. It takes only a look at his face to see that he isn't. All traces of a smile leave Kurt's expression and he stares at Sam for a moment, hurting for him as the implications of that comment follow through in his mind. He holds out a hand finally, his expression purposefully blank.

"Come here."

When Sam takes it, Kurt leads him over to the mirror on the wall. He stops there and then walks around behind his boyfriend, arms folded. "What do you see?"

Sam hangs his arms, turning to glance questioningly at Kurt and then back at the mirror. Mirrors... somehow equally Sam's favorite and least favorite thing. He folds his arms and shrugs.

"A guy who should have ditched the hamburger bun at lunch today." A little distracted, he lifts the edge of his tank and pinches at some of the skin underneath. _Ugh, gross._

"If that's what you see, then you are definitely never seeing me with my shirt off." Kurt's tone is wry, and Sam instinctively mutters a responding, "No, you're tiny." But this calls for more than flippancy, and it isn't about Kurt. 

This is about Sam. Kurt winces a little and reaches around Sam to put his hand over top of Sam's, pulling his fingers free with gentle insistence.

"That's _skin_. There's no fat there. Sam... you're not seeing anything real in that mirror. At some point, something or someone must have changed how you perceive yourself, because what you're looking at isn't what anyone else sees, I promise you."

Sam shifts on his feet. He's embarrassed, talking about this with Kurt. He talks a big game about staying fit and loving his body and that's the image he wants people to see, especially Kurt. Not... this. He bites his lip and lets his shirt drop, moving his hand out from under Kurt's. He can't unsee the flab. He just can't.

"You have to tell me that, you're my boyfriend."

"I do not lie to people about the way they look, that is _not_ the way of a diva." Kurt gives Sam a look in the mirror and takes a small step back, partly because all the sweat on Sam's skin is starting to give him uncomfortable thoughts again and he needs to focus. He needs to _do something_ , because Sam's face when he'd looked in that mirror made him want to cry.

"We could set up a body fat percentage test, but I have a feeling it wouldn't help."

Sam lets out a small, dry laugh, shaking his head. He rubs the back of his neck and meets Kurt's eyes again in the mirror. "I'm not anorexic or anything."

Kurt winces again as he tilts his head at Sam. "Okay... but you also don't have even a pound of fat on your body. You're practically cut from marble. Who or... what makes you feel like this?"

That comment makes Sam blush a little and shocks him into honesty. Kurt thinks he looks cut from marble?

"I dunno if there really was something. Or someone. I was just... chubby, I guess. When I was younger."

"We all were." Kurt executes another little eyeroll to the heavens. "I'll be working the baby fat off my cheeks until I'm forty. But you grew up, Sam-I-am."

He reaches for one of Sam's hands tentatively with both of his. "Your eyes are _lying_ to you. Trust me."

Sam bows his head, quiet, and lets Kurt take his hand. He slips his fingers around Kurt's and squeezes, a small hint of a smile starting to show.

"You don't have baby fat in your cheeks."

"And you don't have it anywhere. If you did, I would both say so _and_ continue to find you the hottest thing since David Beckham's 'Got Milk' campaign. Understood?"

Sam laughs softly and nods. "Understood." Still, there's just that familiar little twinge of guilt, the one that says if he doesn't finish all his reps, he'll burst out of his pj pants later.

"You're sure? Should I at least do another round of situps?"

" _No._ " Kurt shakes his head firmly and tugs Sam as he steps backward toward the door. "Not allowed. If you become any more perfect, all the sequins in the world won't help me outshine you, and that is unacceptable."

Sam laughs, a more genuine laugh this time, as he goes with Kurt to the doors. "Not even possible, babe."

He pauses, stopping and tugging Kurt's hand to stop him too.

"Kurt? Um... thanks."

Kurt looks back at Sam with a delicate smile, returning that warmth tenfold. This isn't over, and he makes several mental notes to watch Sam's gym and eating habits more closely, but he did something. Something right, if Sam's expression is any indication. He's giving back some small piece of what Sam gives him every day.

Of course, what he says is entirely separate from any of that, and is accompanied by a teasing smirk. "Don't even think about kissing me, you are much too partially clothed for that to be advisable."

Sam grins. Sounds like a perfectly good reason to kiss him anyway. But he _is_ still feeling kinda exposed, so he lets go of Kurt's hand just long enough to grab a hoodie from the top of his gym locker and throw it on. Then he goes back to Kurt and kisses him, properly, arms winding around his waist and holding him close. Kurt's a little bit taken aback by the sudden rush away and then rush back, and his eyebrows lift when Sam sweeps back in and enfolds him in arms and lips and a fair amount of manly musk. His arms are trapped between them and they rest on Sam's chest tentatively as Sam pulls back. Kurt hears him speak and feels the rumble beneath his palms.

"Had to make up for missing the tree."

Kurt smiles, dazed and dreamy. "Did I say don't kiss me? Fit of insanity - I must have meant don't stop."

"Sounds right to me." Sam grins, opening his eyes slowly just to take in how Kurt looks right now, just like he always does when they kiss. All flushed and breathless and smiling, just because of Sam. All he knows is he doesn't ever want to see Kurt look that way with anyone else and he doesn't ever want to make anyone else look that way.

"But... you do have your costume and stuff to finish."

Kurt groans out a sigh, mood thoroughly killed, and pulls away, taking Sam's hand.

"Come on. You're walking Cinderella to her car."


	4. Chapter 4

His heart pounds in the narrow space of the stage elevator, each thud pushing up against the buttons of his [satin black dress shirt](http://www.polyvore.com/sensational_transylvania/set?id=58784790). He can't breathe, and it isn't just the fault of the vinyl waist cincher - or the stiletto boots, for that matter. It is one thing to sing "Le Jazz Hot" as a stunning half-man-half-woman. It is quite another to parade around a stage in _fetish wear_ and exude confidence and sex when he's feeling zero of either, especially when he knows Sam is out there. At least Sam has already seen him wear makeup, so the blue eyeshadow and black liner shouldn't come as a complete surprise.

He hears Schue shout "action," and then all too fast Rachel is stammering her lines with extra cheese, Finn is replying, and the elevator... oh god, is going down.

 _Confidence. Fake it if you don't have it, Hummel. You know how to do that._ Kurt takes a breath that hurts his ribs and lifts his chin, both hands resting elegantly on his hips and one knee cocked to show off those heels as he descends. The light blinds him, so he hears but doesn't see Rachel scream and fall dramatically away. Horns sound and... grab elevator door, open, chin thrust up and croon those first words.

" _How d'you do, I-_ "

Kurt's eyes slide sideways to take in the rest of the stage as he steps out of the elevator, and it's one looong first step in those heels.

" _See you met my-_ "

He doesn't feel it yet, but he smirks on cue anyway as he slinks toward Mike, who shuffles closer in his bald cap. Kurt knows once he gets to that side of the stage, he'll see Sam for the first time because that light blindness will be gone and oh lord Sam's been able to see him from the second his legs descended, what if he looks completely disturbed - stop thinking, leading lady.

" _Faithful... handyman._ "

Sam stands in the wing of the stage, waiting for his cue and shivering a little in the cold of the auditorium. You don't realize how cold an auditorium is until you've stood in it in nothing but a tiny pair of tiny gold shorts... did he mention tiny? He's trying to remember his conversation with Kurt, and really truly believe it. It's helping, but he still can't help but wonder if his legs are really jiggling when he walks or if it's just his imagination.

Then comes the elevator, and Kurt's voice, and well... Sam's not thinking about his own body anymore.

 _Holy mother of God, Kurt... Kurt is... fuck. All... legs and waist and eyes, shit._ How the hell is he supposed to go out there and play a role like anything else in the world even matters right now?

Kurt puts a hand on Mike's chest and pushes, fingers flourishing afterward, causing Mike to do a dramatic pratfall to his knees. That means that he can see Sam in the wings now, and that...

That does a couple of things simultaneously. First of all, it makes him blink and perspire just that little bit more. He knew what Sam looked like - one of their first conversations had been in the shower, and his eyes had admittedly wandered. But now, Sam's all... exposed. Very exposed, and in public. Is it bad that Kurt thinks the word "edible"? Must be this show getting to him. _Mm_.

But then, there's also the way Sam is looking at him. Kurt feels his neck heat up under his collar, feels a swell of pride in his chest, and his eyes gleam again like they did in the choir room during his solo duet. He's performing - that's all he needs to remind himself of, this is a character. And that means freedom and confidence and loving that stunned look on his boyfriend's face. _That's right, honey. You keep watching. See what I can do._ Kurt paces a circle around Mike, one finger on his bald cap. 

" _He's just a... little brought down. Because when you knocked?_ "

Kurt stops and smirks and flourishes his hand in the air. His eyes dart once more toward the wings, seeking Sam's one more time.

" _He thought you were the... candyman._ "

And now, strut. Kurt slams his heels down as he walks toward Finn (whose eyes are just about bulging out of his head) and takes his top hat off, spinning it into the audience. He sings, vocalizing around the edges of the notes.

" _Don't get strung out! By the way I look._ "

Quinn and Brittany join him, one on either side, and he touches their shoulders as he stops.

" _Don't judge a book-_ " He bends his knees to the side and, as the girls say, drops it like it's hot. " _By its cov-er..._ "

He turns toward the back of the stage and poses, both hands lifted above his head, exaggerating the curve the cincher gives him. His breathes the words, edging toward his falsetto. " _I'm not... much of a man? By the light of day-_ "

Tricky part. Kurt turns back around and grins, chin dropped, as he and the girls walk backward (backward in stilettos without looking, sweet drag sisters of mercy), turn sideways, and then all pop their chests up three times. It helps to rely on the choreography; it means that Kurt doesn't think too hard about what he's singing, doesn't consider that this is him, Kurt Hummel, singing those words.

" _But by night I'm one hell of a lov-er..._ "

By this point, Sam has no idea how he's supposed to just go out there and... be out there and... do anything other than stare. His brain is completely fried. Yes, he'd thought Kurt was sexy before. But he was also sweet and bashful and demure, and now... now there's none of those. Sam can't breathe. _How does Kurt even move like that? Jesus._

" _I'm just a sweet transvestite..._ "

Shitshitshit, that's Sam's cue. He's supposed to get onto the stage now, kinda sneak his way through the other characters while everyone's watching Kurt so no one really notices him there at first. But once Sam realizes it's time, he's so out of it that he sort of ends up stumbling his way on instead. Very smooth. Santana snorts loud enough for him to hear over the music and shoves him discreetly into his place.

Thank God Rocky's not supposed to have much going on in his head anyway, or look anything other than bewildered.

As the chorus ends and Kurt finishes his weaving and posing choreography with the girls, he realizes what is about to happen. Hopefully Sam is in place and... hopefully Kurt can keep up this act when they're next to each other.

" _Why don't you stay for the night? Or maybe a bite. I could show you my favorite obsession..._ "

Kurt curls fingers under the girls' chins and then turns to sashay toward the glass rectangle by the wings. Sam is there and Kurt meets his eyes and for the first time since the start of the song, his smirk falters, which is alright for just this second because his back is turned. Instead, this new smile is small and nervous and hopeful, if a bit apologetic. Because there is about to be a lot of touching. Very new touching.

" _I've been making a man!_ "

One of Kurt's fingers touches Sam in the center of his bare chest and moves down a couple inches before he turns around and presses his back to him. One of his hands lifts up over his shoulder to play with a few pieces of Sam's hair. His heart is pounding and Sam feels broad and sturdy behind him and he really needs to stop thinking about them as Sam and Kurt right now. His mind shuts down and he focuses, chin tilted toward the audience.

" _With... blonde hair and a tan._ "

Sam's eyes are wide and his jaw is probably completely dropped. _Oh... okay... alright then. So... Kurt... and... touching. In a very sexual way. While he's not wearing... anything, really, and Kurt's wearing... that. And then he's like... against him, like just... right there and all that's even between them is this little gold piece of spandex._

Kurt lifts one of his legs slowly, leaning back into Sam - into _Rocky_ \- and then kicks his heel twice, high in the air.

" _And he's good... for relieving... my tension!_ " 

Then he pushes off and heads back toward the stunned and terrified Finn and Rachel for chorus number two.

And that's... pretty much right when it happens. Sam feels it practically happening in slow motion like some scene in a movie when something horrible is happening and every character rushes to stop it in slow motion and they all yell, " _NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO,_ " in slowed down deep voices. Sam feels that happening. In his shorts.

And the thing about gold spandex hot pants is... you can already see practically everything. So... this... has nowhere to hide.

Sam stops breathing, going warm and turning pink from his head to his toes, then before he can think twice on it, he's spinning on his heel and bolting off the stage. Bathroombathroombathroom.

Those close to Sam notice his sudden bolt and there are definitely a few giggles and smiles, but Kurt is facing Finn and Rachel and he is finishing this damn song. A couple choruses later, a little antici-

 

Pation, and Kurt is vocalizing a " _symptom_ " as the elevator carries him back upward. He can hear Mr. Schue and Miss Pilsbury laughing and cheering and applauding even before he reaches the second level of the stage. He's grinning as he pants up there, catching his breath, bent over his knees, feet and legs aching and heart racing. He did it. He was sexy and nobody laughed and he didn't fall over or crumble under the pressure. 

It takes him a few minutes to get down from behind the stage, so he misses most of the drama with Mr. Schue. When he finally joins the gossiping crowd, using a tissue to mop at his brow, he looks around for Sam curiously, tottering over to Quinn in his heels.

"Where's my Rocky?"

She gives him a slow knowing look and then rolls her eyes, chuckling. "I'd give him a few."

Quinn is being way too generous assuming it even takes Sam 'a few.'

When he's done, he cleans himself off and washes his hands furiously, and does not put the gold shorts back on. He puts on his McKinley sweatpants and gym t-shirt and stares at himself in the mirror over the sink, gripping the sink's edges. How the hell is he supposed to go back in there? Had they seen? How many of them had seen? Did they know? Maybe they just thought he got stage fright and needed to hurl. God, please please please think he had to hurl.

And how is he supposed to look at Kurt again? Assuming he hasn't totally grossed or weirded Kurt out to the point of breakup, or embarrassed him or offended him, assuming Kurt still wants to be with him after this, how is he supposed to face him the same way again? How's he supposed to forget how those touches made him feel, forget what he'd thought about while... tending to his issue? How's he supposed to look at him and not just... want him?

When his face has pretty much returned to normal color, he returns to his spot on the stage as quiet and sneaky as he can.

It's barely been a few moments after Quinn speaks to him, causing Kurt to blush fire truck red and laugh nervously while she sweeps away. There's Sam, trying to sneak back onto stage unnoticed amid the bustle. It's endearing and dispels at least a couple of Kurt's nerves. He steps tentatively toward him, smiling that same half-smile that he'd given him mid-song, hands folded in front of him.

"... Hi."

 _He's talking to you. He's talking to you. He's your boyfriend, genius, of course he's talking to you._ He's still in the outfit and the makeup... still those shoes. Course, now there's Kurt in that made-up face, and not Frankie. And that does help the nerves a little. But the blood is still rushing in Sam's ears and he doesn't know what to say or how to explain.

"Uh. H-hi."

Kurt interprets that hesitance as discomfort with the whole... get up, and he doesn't step as close to Sam as he might have otherwise. He honestly can't imagine another reason for the way Sam can't even meet his eyes. He'd felt... something as he'd leaned back against Sam, certainly, and he was startled by how difficult it had been to pull away once he'd realized. But it's a reaction Kurt isn't eager to discuss, because he's positive he'll just come off as painfully naive when he's sure this is something normal people deal with all of the time, that doesn't even merit attention. This fidgeting, frowning look on Sam... it seems much more likely that it's about Kurt looking like a freak. He reaches up to touch the bottom of his corset nervously.

"It's still me under here. I promise."

"I know." Sam takes a breath and smiles weakly. "I know. Just... you were... you look. Wow."

Kurt can feel his expression (and his cheeks) warming. _Wow. Not... what the hell, wow._ He liked it. _Well, of course he liked it, you idiot, remember the lean?_ But that could have been just physiological... something, and it wasn't, it was because Sam liked it, all of it. _Sam wanted him._ Kurt wishes he was at home in his room where he could squeal like an idiot and kick his feet on his bed, but right now, he has to try to act cool.

His hands fidget with one another for a moment before his expression shifts to playful, his eyes tracing a little glance up and down Sam. "... So were you, by the way. Sad to see the gold shorts gone. You should hold onto them."

Sam gulps, and he wouldn't be surprised if it was audible. To try and cover it up, he laughs, although it's more of a 'heh' than a full chuckle.

Kurt's teeth bite the inside of his lip during the silence that follows and he looks at Sam through semi-dropped lids, feeling sexier in this moment than he did at any point on stage. Sam's eyes are on him and he's meeting them and they're both realizing how much they were affecting one another, and Kurt's heart is starting to hammer so loudly that it's drowning out everything else in the room. He wants to kiss his boyfriend. If he kisses his boyfriend, though, where would it end? It's a lot to consider suddenly and his nerves finally give way under the strain.

"... I should probably." He gestures at his face. "De-drag."

Sam nods mechanically. "Yeah... yeah, right. Um. I'll... meet you back here? We could go get coffee or something?"

 _Coffee_. Sam is inviting him out for coffee, and it's so charming and normal that Kurt lets out a laugh that shatters some of the tension. He tilts his chin at his boyfriend and holds out a hand, smiling.

"Only if I can have a kiss first."

Sam blushes faintly, laughs back, and nods. He can do that. He can do a kiss. Sam smiles and leans into one, a hand at Kurt's jaw when their lips meet. He's sure not to make it too deep or passionate because right now... he doesn't think he can handle that.

Kurt can barely handle even the kiss, and it takes actual effort not to shudder or moan or something else ridiculous. It's strange, how the drama of performance can be so isolated in his mind. Playing Frankie was... playing a role. On stage he'd felt some small piece of this deep-down tug, but it was swallowed by the moment, the act he was putting on. This is real, this is Sam's warm palm touching his skin, and it is _infinitely_ more intimate. 

They both linger a little bit longer than would be entirely chaste, but then Kurt finally forces himself to pull away with just a brief touch to Sam's hip and a smile. And, alright, perhaps he has a little extra sashay and wiggle in his walk as he heads off toward the men's room, but that's just the effect of wearing a waist cincher. Not at all pride that he has an absurdly hot boyfriend who finds him sexy and wants him and who makes his insides turn to mush and was impressed by his performance, which he nailed. Not at all.

 

Kurt removes said cincher before venturing anywhere near the men's room, but the rest of his regular outfit is in a duffel bag and (predictably) the one usable stall is occupied. His kingdom for a ladies'. Men's lavatories are never equipped with enough counter space, there are no full-length mirrors, and the sinks are invariably right next to the urinals. 

Kurt sighs and places his duffel on the floor, rolling up his sleeves to remove his makeup while he waits for the stall to clear. He washes thoroughly, pulling out his own remover to protect his skin, and is momentarily blinded and deaf by water and suds. He gropes for his towel once he finishes, hearing the stall open in the background as he wipes his face off.

The second his vision clears, his heart lurches and he chokes out a gasp because (hello, horror movie stereotype) Karofsky has appeared behind him in the mirror, hovering over his shoulder. Kurt freezes like a scared rabbit, shoulders tense and both hands knuckle-white on his towel, as the football player juts his chin in close to his ear to hiss.

"Wasn't enough for you, was it? Strutting around with your fucked up little boyfriend, showing off what a freak you both are. Now you think you can be a makeup-wearing ladyboy too. In my school."

Karofsky's hand lands on Kurt's shoulder suddenly, yanking him back from the sink and Kurt's heels are slipping on the tile and he's sure he's about to be hospitalized and he just prays plastic surgery can save his cheekbones because he knows he's going to grow into them eventually. He feels himself slam back into the door of one of the stalls and his mouth opens in a silent yelp at the impact, Karofsky's fist in his silk shirt and those sharp eyes inches away.

"I told you this wasn't over. If you don't get back in your hole where you belong, if you don't make a few changes? I'm coming for you." His chin thrusts toward Kurt with a threatening lurch and Kurt jolts again, eyes wide. "I swear to _God_ , Hummel, I'm coming for you."

There isn't a word that Kurt can think to say. Usually so ready to snap back a retort, all he can do is shake and feel himself sinking into the floor, just desperate to be let go, to be allowed to shrink away. There is _murder_ in Karofsky's eyes, rage that Kurt can't begin to comprehend. Because of this? Because of heels and sequin pants and eyeliner?

With another shove, he's released, and he has to catch himself with a palm against the slippery stall door, white and aghast and staring as Dave takes two steps backward, glaring, and then turns to exit. Kurt breathes out again once the door bangs shut, though shakily, and leans his head back, closing his eyes.

It takes him longer than Sam might have anticipated to return, as a result of needing to wipe away a few angry tears (mostly at himself, for not saying something when he had the chance) and get himself together. Kurt finally steps uncertainly back into the auditorium in his usual jeans, boots and long sweater, eyes on the shining black floor of the stage and cheeks still pale.

To be honest, Sam doesn't really have a set estimate of when Kurt might be done getting changed. Sometimes he's an hour late for a date because he's fixing his hair. It actually has happened. And he's always freaking out about his skin so Sam is pretty sure it's gonna take him a while to get all that makeup off and put on whatever cream and stuff he needs to fix whatever the makeup did. So he's not so surprised when Kurt wanders back onto the stage fifteen minutes later instead of five. He exits his game of Tetris and hops up to his feet.

The amount of time hadn't been so surprising. But the look he sees on Kurt's face, that is. He'd been flushed and giddy when he left here. Something is wrong. Brow furrowed in concern, Sam crosses the stage to him.

"Kurt? You okay?"

"... Fine."

He isn't sure why he says it. It just comes out. Something about what just happened feels like.... his problem, not Sam's. Like it would be more trouble than it's worth to involve him and like he needs to do his part to protect Sam from seeing that some people don't change simply because you stand up to them once in the hallway. Kurt can't change the the shock and fear in his eyes, though. His smile at Sam is visibly strained and his arms are a little too tightly wrapped around himself.

"Ready to go?"

For a second, Sam almost believes it. He almost lets it drop and says okay, but something stops him. Maybe it's because he pays too much attention to Kurt's eyes than is probably healthy and they definitely don't look right. He reaches for Kurt's hand.

"Not really. Unless you wanna tell me what's up while we're in the car."

 _Too nice_. Sam is being too nice. Kurt almost crumbles right there on the stage and his chin shakes, but then he tenses it and nods hurriedly.

"Car."

Suddenly, Sam's gone from knowing something's wrong, to knowing something is really, really wrong. His eyes widen at the sight of Kurt's face falling, the way his whole calm, cool act falls apart in a split second. Sam nods, whispering a quiet, "Okay," before lifting Kurt's hand and kissing it and leading him off the stage.

Kurt sort of power walks them to his truck, managing to stay relatively calm. Once he's sitting in the driver's seat, he puts both hands on the wheel and takes a centering breath. He should be stronger than this. It had just never been this bad before. 

Sam wants to wait until Kurt's ready to start talking, but it only takes a few seconds of that silence for him to start getting really freaked out.

"...Kurt?"

The tone of tentative concern causes Kurt to immediately return to trying to act like this isn't a big deal, not at all, one hand flipping nonchalantly in the air as he finally brings himself to speak.

"Oh, it was just... Karofsky was in the men's room. I don't know why, it just shook me more than usual."

Sam's heart drops into his feet. He turns in his seat, on high alert now, leaning just a fraction over the console toward Kurt.

"What did he do to you?"

"The usual, just. Words, mostly. He said that we had to... stop, or else, the tired old homophobic song and dance. It's fine, really."

Sam shakes his head, the motion almost frantic. "No, it's not _fine_. What's 'mostly' mean? Did he hurt you?"

Kurt's gaze flicks over to Sam but the rest of him doesn't move. "First tell me you won't start anything." The evasion is probably telling, but Kurt has to try.

If eyes could literally burn, Sam's would be. "I'm not starting anything, but I'm sure as _hell_ finishing it! Where is he? Is he still here?" He reaches for the door handle, ready to storm back toward the school.

" _Sam._ " Kurt reaches out and takes hold of Sam's shoulder. His tone isn't angry, but his voice and his expression are firm. "Please don't. Testosterone shoving around testosterone will solve nothing, and I just... I want to go home."

Sam pauses at the touch, and with the plea, he knows he's a goner. For a minute he sits there, taking breaths to calm himself, then he drops his hand from the door handle and turns to settle back into his seat. He looks over at Kurt, quiet.

"If he hurts you..."

"Then I'll speak to the proper people in authority." Kurt turns his eyes heavenward and snorts, trying to lighten the mood as his hands return to the wheel and he starts to turn the key. "As if that ever made a difference."

"Wait-"

Sam turns in toward the driver's seat again and reaches for Kurt's hand. There's still the whole thing of how upset Kurt was... is. That's not okay with Sam, and maybe he can't go kick the crap out of Dave Karofsky for it, but he's here with Kurt so there's still something he can do right? Maybe when he promised Burt he'd protect Kurt, he didn't just mean with a fist.

"Just... let's just stay here for a minute."

Kurt stops and looks at the hand on his. He exhales and tilts his head at that hand before smiling and taking it, looking over at Sam.

"... I can do that."

Sam smiles back at him. Kurt's looks real this time. Even though he still looks kinda... just, tired. "He really freaked you out, huh?" 

Kurt leans his head back against the headrest, feeling himself slump. "I don't understand why he hates us so much. I've never understood it."

Sam shakes his head, squeezing his hand. "I don't know. I'll never get people like that. He's just... scared." 

He's quiet, letting out a restrained breath after a moment. He hates knowing something could have happened to Kurt in that stupid bathroom... well, something even worse than what did. And he wouldn't have had any clue. He's supposed to protect him and he wouldn't have been able to do a goddamn thing.

Sam tugs gently on Kurt's hand. "... C'mere?"

There's a look in Sam's eyes, that's so... just, everything. Indescribable. Like no way anyone has ever looked at Kurt Hummel before, and it makes him feel. 

Definitely not terrified of Karofsky anymore. Kurt chuckles and shifts a few inches closer. "Come how close, cause any closer and I might end up riding the gear shift."

Any other moment.. especially considering events earlier tonight... Sam would probably blush at the million double meanings that sentence could have. But not right here, not right now. He just laughs quietly and shakes his head. "Just... come _here_."

He does his part in leaning over the gear shift to meet Kurt halfway, hugging him tightly while Kurt curls himself into Sam's chest and wraps an arm around Sam's back.

"I can take a lot," he murmurs, his palm pressed between Sam's shoulder blades. "If I get to come back to this."

Sam laughs again, not exactly the happiest laugh though, and rests his cheek to Kurt's hair. "Still wish you didn't have to."

Warmth spreads through Kurt's chest and limbs, and he can feel himself relaxing into Sam. He carries more tension in his shoulders and neck than he realizes, except during those moments when he can finally let go and feel safe, genuinely safe. That's what he feels here, nestled on Sam's shoulder and chest, and it's every bit as important as what he realized in the auditorium.

"If the world was ready for me, I'd be letting myself down." He clutches his fingers in Sam's shirt and sniffs in a quiet chuckle.

Sam rubs his back a little while he thinks about what Kurt just said. It's brave and strong and all, lots of things Sam likes best about Kurt. But he shakes his head cause something's still not right.

"You're not just special cause you're gay, Kurt. You wouldn't be letting yourself down if people stopped being such assholes about it. "

There's a point there, but the day's already been too exhausting to pursue it. Kurt lets out a sigh and a hum, pulling back enough to look at Sam and fix the side of his hair which got mussed by all of the hugging.

"It's like you said. They're afraid. He's afraid. And we don't need to spend any more time on him."

"Okay." Sam reaches up and takes over smoothing Kurt's hair out for him, smiling again when he probably makes it worse.

"Did you still wanna get that coffee? It's cool if you wanna just head home instead, I'd get it."

Kurt breathes in and out and it feels easier than it has all afternoon. He turns the key again. "Coffee sounds perfect."


	5. Chapter 5

Coach Bieste has a teacher's meeting or an appointment or something, so practice is starting late. Sam doesn't really remember the reason and doesn't care so much, since it means he gets to hang out with Kurt longer than they usually do after school. They meet in the choir room and Sam pulls out his guitar, just strumming around on it, trying to think of something fun to play that he and Kurt could sing when he shows up. They've been singing with each other more often lately, but they still haven't had their duet in glee. Really it's only a matter of time.

Kurt walks in to hear that familiar steady twang, a smile spreading across his lips, already feeling like the world has been lifted off his shoulders as he sets down his satchel beside the empty chairs. No jocks, no stares, no one else in the room. It's just him and Sam. He hoists himself up onto the piano and crosses his legs as he leans back, one foot bobbing to the beat. Suddenly, he finds a chord he recognizes. His grin widens and he tips his head to the side. He begins to croon when his cue comes along, swaying back and forth and looking at Sam, his Sammy Sam-I-Am, with a light in his eyes that money and fame could never buy. This may not be Broadway, but [this song](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OvMVCHhwTPs) feels right for them.

" _Don't you worry there, my honey, we might not have any money, but we've got our love to pay the bills._ "

Sam hadn't even realized what he was playing until he hears Kurt's voice behind him begin to sing. He spins around to grin a welcome at him, warm and affectionate, and his playing gets a little more confident now that he knows what song he's working with.

" _Maybe I think you're cute and funny, maybe I wanna do what bunnies do with you if you know what I mean._ "

He winks at Kurt boldly, forcing heat into Kurt's cheeks and causing him to duck his gaze down toward his knee, still bobbing one of his feet and it's exactly the reaction Sam wanted. Kurt lifts his head for the chorus though, eyes quirked up to the ceiling as his voice stretches into the higher parts of his range.

" _Oh, let's get rich and buy our parents homes in the South of France..._ " One of his hands lifts to flourish in the air, then his tone drops down again as he puts his hand on his lapel to model with a very Kurt shoulder wiggle. " _Let's get rich and give everybody nice sweaters and teach them how to dance._ "

Sam smiles all the way through Kurt starting the chorus, kinda loving his imagination running away with the lyrics. Sounds nice, all of that. Sounds like... something Kurt and him could actually do someday.

" _Let's get rich and build a house on a mountain making everybody look like ants..._ "

He looks up from his guitar and gives Kurt a nod, and they sing the last lines together.

" _From way up there, you and I, you and I..._ "

They sound good together. Really good. They harmonize seamlessly without Kurt even edging toward the top of his range. The spark in his eyes is a giddiness born not just of affection, but also performance chemistry. There's something here that feels... special, and that matters to Kurt more than it would to most. He hops off the piano, clasping both hands innocently behind his back as he circles around Sam, singing the most logical part of the next verse.

" _Well, you might be a bit confused._ "

Sam laughs, shaking his head as he cranes his neck to watch Kurt walk around him. It's not a dig, it's actually sweet. He _is_ a little confused most of the time, but he's smart about a lot of things that matter, and he knows Kurt knows the difference. Sam leans over a little, toward where Kurt is now standing, meeting his eyes for this line. 

" _And you might be a little bit bruised._ "

It's the truth of the line that's a bit sad and Kurt's smile reflects that sadness, though he touches Sam's hair gingerly. This is what matters, not that, not what's outside of this room.

" _But, baby, how we spoon like no one else._ "

There's the return of that blushing grin. Kurt steps back from Sam and points to him, bent toward him playfully.

" _So, I will help you read those books, if you will soothe my worried looks._ "

" _And we will put the lonesome on the shelf._ " Sam smiles at him, his heart doing that funny little flip like it's been doing whenever Kurt touches him or looks at him like that. He doesn't like to see even that little bit of sadness in his eyes, but then maybe Kurt wouldn't be so amazingly _Kurt_ without it. So Sam can just try and make it happen less. He reaches up, pausing in his strumming for a second and tugging Kurt down into his lap as he collapses into a chair. Kurt lets out a surprised little sound as he's yanked down, and Sam laughs because it takes another minute to readjust so he can keep playing, but man is it totally worth it. He's still laughing a little when he nudges Kurt and starts singing again.

" _Oh let's get rich and buy our parents homes in the south of France._ " Kurt smiles softly and leans into Sam's shoulder as they harmonize again, looking down into his eyes and feeling the circle of warmth surrounding them as if it could block out everything else. " _Let's get rich and buy everybody nice sweaters and teach them how to dance._ "

He wonders as he feels Sam's voice hum through his body, pressed into his side, how he ever lived without this. He certainly can't imagine being without it now, which would normally scare him. That's a lot of dependence, and fairly early. But for some reason it doesn't. Not exactly.

" _Let's get rich and build a house on a mountain making everybody look like ants, from way up there, you and I, you and I._ "

Kurt reaches down to stop Sam's hands on the strings, making the room quiet before he touches Sam's cheek with tentative fingers and sings one more time in the silent room as he moves closer.

" _From way up there, you and I... you and I..._ "

Then it's quiet, and it's just Sam and Kurt and closeness, his arm around Kurt and a guitar and Kurt's hand on his cheek. Sam's eyes flicker to Kurt's and linger there. He smiles a little, feeling... well, just feeling. Like, everything, all at once. He's not good with words but this is good, Sam knows that much. _It's right. More right than anything else has ever been._

Kurt isn't often the one to initiate a kiss. It's an issue of confidence, though he wouldn't admit to it. Now, though, it feels-

Yes. _Right_. Kurt hesitates only once, halfway through his lean in, but then he presses his lips to Sam's gently.

Karofsky passes by the door to the choir room unnoticed just as their moment becomes intimate. His eyes fix immediately on the pair curled around each other and a bolt of rage and pain shoots through him that he doesn't understand and doesn't want to. All he needs to cling to is that Hummel is asking for it. And like hell is he going to let Evans get away with this. His eyes burn with a deathly glare as he tears himself away from the door and storms down the hallway toward the locker room, shoving a hapless freshman halfway there and causing a flurry of papers to fly toward the ceiling.

Sam goes off to practice with a smile on his face and a bounce in his step. Life is friggin good, man. He's got Kurt, he's got football, he's got his friends... he's got Kurt. Needs to be said twice. And really, except for Dave fucking Karofsky and that incident at rehearsal last week, the school's been pretty okay about the whole thing. They get looks, sure, but that's like a drop in the pool or whatever that saying is. Man, him and Kurt... they're just like... wow. Awesome. This thing he feels with Kurt... he could put a word to it but that would probably be like, way too soon. All he knows is when he's with him, everything's better. _He's_ better.

"Hey homo queero," a voice sing-songs, interrupting his daze. Sam looks up from the bench he's sitting on, tying his cleats, to see - who else - Dave Karofsky. And Azimio. And... three other big guys from the team. 

Sam swallows and goes back to tying his shoe. "Trying to get ready for practice, man. Something you need?"

Karofsky's voice is deceptively even, his chin nodding as he speaks. "I already told your fairy princess boyfriend what I need, and you didn't listen. Saw the two of you practically straddling each other in the music room earlier. Warned you that I don't wanna see that disgusting shit, Evans."

"Yeah, lady lips," Azimio joins in. "Now you and little gay twinkle toes gonna have to pay for it."

Sam's fists clench at his sides and he takes a breath. He's really not a 'don't solve things with violence' kind of guy, he won't give himself that credit. But Kurt is. Kurt had asked him not to start anything. So... he'll give it one shot. For Kurt's sake.

"If you think I'd ever let you punks get near him, you're even dumber than I thought."

Karofsky lets a low 'oooh,' getting his posse to join in the chuckling. Then he turns back to Sam. That burning is in his eyes again and his tone is anything but casual. It sounds like a promise. 

"See, that's where you're wrong pretty boy. We warned you. Hummel will get his. And when we're done with you, he won't have his little fairy godfather to protect him."

That's when Sam's blood officially stops boiling and explodes. He jumps up and throws himself at Karofsky, sending him backward into the row of lockers behind him where he lands with a shout. It's a nice start, but there's nothing Sam can do about the other four guys twice his size behind him.

Karofsky almost immediately shoves back at Sam with all of his strength, a buzzing in his muscles and his brain that needs an outlet desperately. That outlet is about to be Sam Evans' face. His shoulder forces Sam back enough for him to throw a punch at his gut, and then Azimio is grabbing Sam's shoulders while another fist flies for his face and lands hard. There are hands snatching at Sam's uniform, trying to hold him down as more blows land on both sides.

Mike and Artie had been getting their helmets from storage and they return to see the brawl in progress. Mike immediately snaps out a loud 'hey,' and rushes in, grabbing at Azimio's arm to stop it mid-swing. He may not be a stocky jock, but that's Sam - that's their friend whose eye is already swelling. Mike drags Azimio backward and gets clocked in the jaw for his efforts. Of course, Azimio having turned around to hit him, he's now in the perfect position for Artie to swing his helmet and hit him squarely between the legs, with a shouted, 'leave him alone!' Azimio's mouth forms an 'O' and he falls heavily to his knees and then to the floor.

Meanwhile, Sam can barely see anymore, thanks to the anger and adrenaline and pain. He's just blindly throwing punches and kicks, praying they hit someone long enough to hold them back. His eye's already throbbing and it's possible his nose is broken, he thinks he might be able to feel blood running down his face. He manages to get a good smack in but Dave moves in and shoves him over the bench. His head hits the floor, hard. He yells something, he's not sure what, and tries desperately not to black out.

Off to the side, he hears Mike and Artie doing what they can to stop the bray. Shit, now they're all involved too? Sam tries to get up, get back in it, but his head feels too heavy so he just kicks again, aiming at Karofsky's legs. He can't see if it lands.

Once Sam hits the floor, the fight goes out of the jocks a bit. He's pretty messed up, and a crippled kid in a wheelchair rolling right into the center of the brawl and shouting, 'that's enough' tends to disrupt even the strongest waves of testosterone. Mike and Artie stand in front of Sam, staring down the four still standing. It's at this uncertain moment that Finn finally makes it to practice, beaming after an epic Rachel makeout session. His face falls into shock once he looks at the state of the locker room and his eyes dart back and forth from Sam on the floor to Karofsky and back. Dave is breathing heavily, a dark bruise forming on his cheek, fists still defiantly clenched. He meets Finn's eyes and practically shouts across the benches at him.

" _What_ , Hudson? You got a problem?"

And Mike and Artie are looking toward him. Everyone is looking toward him.

And Finn says nothing. His eyes fall suddenly to his sneakers and Mike's expectant stare becomes confused and hurt. Karofsky snorts and hits one of the other three in the chest, nodding toward the door to the field. "Come on. He got the message."

Once they're gone, Mike immediately bends down to check on Sam. "Are you okay, dude? Can you move? Shit, we've gotta go to the nurse..."

Guilt crawling in his throat, Finn makes a move toward his three fellow glee club members, but Artie rolls into his way as Mike gingerly starts to lift Sam. Artie's glaring frown is clearly meant to wound. "We've got this."

Sam groans softly and tries to lift his head again when he hears people talking. He manages maybe an inch, then drops it back down, blinking slowly. Everything looks hazy. There's relief... some far away acknowledgement that there's no more punches or kicks coming, and the only pain is what's already there. And then something else in him realizes, as Mike starts to bring him off the ground, that he doesn't have to be on his guard fighting anymore. With that thought, he lets his head fall back again and blacks out.

With Mike and Artie rushing Sam as carefully as possible to the nurse's office, Finn is left to stumble uncertainly out the door into the light. Kurt had waited to leave school until he could wave to Sam on the field - it was silly, but he'd had this sudden urge to see him again that he couldn't fight. Maybe it was the incredibly sweet duet they'd shared that made him particularly sentimental. Maybe it was that he liked seeing Sam all golden and running out in that bright red uniform, waving to him inexplicably when he should be flirting with cheerleaders. Whatever it was, he'd decided to wait.

Karofsky and the four other guilty parties know better than to think that there'll still be practice today. With their duffel bags in tow, they leave the locker room to head straight for one of their cars to make a getaway. Kurt arrives on the field just in time to get passed by a... strangely black and blue Karofsky, who shoves him with his shoulder and gives him a meaningfully dark smirk as they all pass. Blood. There was blood on Karofsky's lip, and there were bruises... they'd been in a fight. Kurt stares at their retreating forms for a second before his heart thuds into his stomach, the world fades to a silent gray and his mouth opens like he's just been hit in the gut himself. His bag slides off his shoulder onto the grass and he turns to run toward the school.

Finn numbly mumbles something at Kurt as he is screamed at, pointing him toward the nurse's office. By the time Kurt arrives, already red in the face with fear and restrained tears, the ambulance has been called. There are hysterics that Mike tries to help with and the nurse tries to restrain. Kurt threatens and shouts at the very top of his squeaky range until he finally bursts into horribly unattractive sobs and collapses into a chair at the side of Sam's bed, clutching his hand until the ambulance arrives.

He isn't allowed to come with Sam since he isn't a relation, so Mike drives Kurt's car home with Kurt weirdly silent in the passenger's seat. He hasn't wiped his face or fixed his hair. He would have left his bag on the field if Artie hadn't retrieved it for him just before they left. He doesn't speak, except to say thank you to both of them, for everything. He doesn't even say anything to his father when he gets home. He will, eventually. Not yet. For now, he just goes quietly upstairs, avoiding conversation and any kind of eye contact, and shuts the door.

Sam comes to in the ambulance, confused and dizzy. He moans quietly and asks where he is, what happened, just before the fight starts to seep back into his memories. He'd... he'd blacked out. And now his head is _killing_ him, he kinda wishes he could black out again. The paramedics shine a light in his eyes and ask him questions that he slowly tries to answer. He hears the word concussion thrown around.

At the hospital, the doctor makes the diagnosis of a moderate concussion and says he'll have to be checked in for observation since he'd fallen unconscious. He helps Sam get cleaned up and changed, and soon Sam's lying in a hospital bed with some minor painkillers starting to kick in.

They must have called his family, because his tearful mom and concerned dad come in an hour later, Stacy and Stevie in toe. They climb all over his bed, it makes him smile and they're all a nice distraction. But soon they have to go, and in the quiet dark of his hospital room, all he can do is miss Kurt and hope he's okay.

Between Sam's parents, Kurt's dad (once Kurt finally breaks and explains what's wrong), Mike, Artie, and Coach Bieste, there is quite an uproar for the prompt expulsion of the five responsible for the violence. Principal Figgins is empathetic, but says that he just can't expel half of the football players mid-season, especially when they all claim that Sam started the fight. Instead, he gives them all detention every night for the rest of the school year and makes sure there are probationary notices on their records.

Kurt doesn't get in contact with Sam that same night. He wants to, and he stares at his phone on his bedside table instead of sleeping, but he reasons that Sam needs his rest more than he needs Sam to fix the empty sadness clenching in his gut. He manages to wait until a reasonable time the next day to begin texting, veering away from the crowd between classes.

The first reads only, _I am so, so sorry. Please tell me that you're okay._

Sam's home by that point, lying in his bed with a comic book open in his lap, a bottle of aspirin on his nightstand, and a little sister curled up sleeping against him.

His mom'd been fawning all over him since she brought him home that morning and it's making him a little crazy even though it's nice. At some point, Stacy came in and crawled into bed with him and asked how he got hurt. She's too little, she likes the world and people too much, and Sam didn't have the heart to tell her the whole truth. He said there was a bad guy running around his school stealing all the teachers and he had to stop him. Stacy said there was a kindergarten teacher at her school she wished would get stolen. Sam laughed and hugged his sister, and she told him she was glad he beat the bad guy and it's cool that her brother is Superman. Sam read to her from his comic book until she fell asleep.

When his phone buzzes, it's an awkward little dance to reach for it without disturbing Stacy, but it's totally worth it when he sees Kurt's picture flash on the screen. Even if the text itself is a little heartbreaking. 

_i'm fine. just a concusion but its not serious. r u ok???_

Kurt's heart hurts when he reads the word "concusion," misspellings and all. His composure falters and he leans back against the wall of the hallway with a thud, forgetting entirely about what class he'd been heading toward or who might be watching.

_Of course I'm fine, I'm not the one who went to the hospital._

Kurt's brow creases and he already feels the need to sniff a bit before his thumbs move again. 

_This is my fault. I just can't believe he actually did it._

Sam frowns, shaking his head as if Kurt can actually see it.

_how is this your fault? u didnt knock me out._

_It was only me before. Karofsky would never have bothered you except for me. It's ME that he hates._ Kurt bites at his lip as he pauses. Sam won't agree, but it's true. Sam could have kept presenting as straight. The only thing that makes him a target is their relationship.

_babe srsly dont do this. he has the problem not you. and its not like ur forcing me to be w/ u so stop ok?_

Sam's fingers stop typing for a second, but he decides he's not done. 

_bc youre kinda breaking my heart._

Kurt winces at the phone screen and takes a breath that comes out a sigh. The next two messages take a few seconds to work out. The last thing he wants to do is hurt Sam.

_I just_

_I wish I could do something. You're so important to me and I can't do anything._

Sam stops and just stares at the screen for a minute. That's... it's big. It seems really big. He smiles a little and types back.

_Youre so important to me to. know what u can do?_

If Sam thinks that's big, he doesn't know what Kurt almost typed instead. Just the thought of it makes his heart skip a few thumps and makes him breathe a little heavier. Kurt tries to move past the feeling and lifts a brow. 

_What? Anything, seriously._

_come over and see me. i miss u!_

Kurt grins unexpectedly down at his phone. He gets to see Sam. He gets to see Sam today.

_I'll come over right after school. Miss you like a harmony lacking the lower third. <3_

Sam laughs, totally charmed.

 _miss u like rick allen is missing an arm._ Well, he'd tried, anyway. _see u soon! <3 _

Kurt clutches at his phone, smiling and equally completely charmed. He has a date. He closes the phone and pushes off the wall to head toward class, a little added speed in his steps because the bell is going to ring any second now. A few feet away from the door, Karofsky turns the nearest corner heading toward him and Kurt's face falls as his jaw tenses. Karofsky's eyes bore into him and they stare at each other as they come closer to passing. Kurt wants to say something. He wants to fight back, to push.

But wouldn't that just make everything worse? The last thing he wants in the world is for Sam to ever get hurt like that again. If there's anything he can do to stop it...

So when Karofsky jerks toward him as if about to strike, Kurt flinches backward, giving him exactly what he wants and fully aware of that. Karofsky chuckles and continues down the hall and Kurt slinks into his classroom, trying not feel ashamed at himself.

 

After school, the hallway incident forgotten, Kurt pulls up in front of Sam's house. He's incredibly nervous, since this will serve as his introduction to Sam's family and they might view him as the cause for Sam's injuries even if Sam doesn't. He clutches a little bouquet of peonies in one hand and a case of the peanut brittle he'd made last weekend in the other. He hadn't had time to bake anything new as a gift considering the short notice, but he couldn't just show up empty handed. He breathes out for courage on the door step and then rings the doorbell.

Sam's mom opens the door, and smiles at the well-dressed young man behind it holding flowers. "Hello... I'm guessing you're Kurt?"

Kurt smiles hopefully and tries to summon all of his best parent-pleasing skills.

"Yes, ma'am. I hope I'm not disturbing you... I brought you this."

He holds out the peanut brittle a little bit awkwardly, his arm too stiff and eager. Then he leans in to speak out the side of his mouth as if telling a secret, very Groucho Marx. "Next time it'll be freshly made, I promise." 

Nervous, much too high-pitched chuckle. Oops.

Mrs. Evans takes the case, looking down with a pleasantly surprised lift of her eyebrows, then smiles warmly at Kurt. He probably doesn't have to look very closely to see where Sam gets his smile from. 

"That's so sweet of you, Kurt, thank you. Go on up, I won't keep you."

 _Approval achieved._ Kurt beams with pride and hikes his bag up higher as he enters, looking instinctively around the house. Cute. It feels... full of family. He thanks Mrs. Evans, looks up the stairs and then climbs them, checking out the family portraits on the wall as he ascends. Good heavens, [Sam was cherubic](http://25.media.tumblr.com/14ee85a08c76965467fc98d12692b283/tumblr_mgbe6wJWc21r350t5o2_250.png). He grins a little wider when he sees that and then double times it toward the bedroom.

Kurt opens the door as silently as possible and peeks his head around on the off chance that Sam is resting, the peonies clutched under his chin.

Sam's not resting, but Stacy still is. An hour and a half later and she's still snuggled into his side, having woken up a couple times just to snuggle closer. He knows it means she'll be up forever tonight but he can't wake her up either. Anyway, he knows she was really tired. She hadn't been able to sleep after finding out Sam was in the hospital, which is why she's not in school today. Stevie did a little better, but probably only because he was putting on a 'big kid' brave face. Sam knows that face pretty well.

The door opens slowly and Sam looks up from the game he's playing on his phone with one hand and grins blindingly.

"Kurt!"

Stacy stirs a little and Sam freezes, but the damage is done. Kurt, meanwhile, is overcome with far too many emotions hitting all at once. Sam's smile is indescribable to see again after last finding him unconscious and bleeding. It is, however, still surrounded by bruises and swelling and a dark red scar on his forehead. Kurt can't help but start to fall to pieces at the sight of all that happiness stubbornly pushing through and he steps through the door with a smile that is slightly watery. He sniffs, though, and reaches up with a knuckle to push away two overeager tears, hopefully before the blond little angel on the bed next to Sam sees them. He tries to make his tone even and quiet as he steps closer.

"Oh, who is this?"

 _Don't cry, Kurt. Please don't cry._ Sam doesn't say it out loud since Kurt's clearly trying to keep anyone from noticing. He focuses on Kurt just being here, that makes him plenty happy. He blushes when it dawns on him that his boyfriend is looking at him cuddling with his baby sister. _Heh._

"This is Stacy, my little sister. You might need to fight her for a spot. She's a clinger. "

"Well, hi there, Stacy." Kurt doesn't try to dislodge her immediately. He tilts his head at her as he pulls up a chair, smiling, and still holding his flowers. "I'm sorry I woke you up, I didn't realize that this was Sleeping Beauty's room too."

Stacy giggles. "I don't like Sleeping Beauty! I like Rapunzel, though. And Superman!" Sam just smirks at his little sister and then smiles more warmly at Kurt. He should have guessed Kurt would be awesome with little kids. He can see Stacy practically fawning over him already.

Kurt affects a surprised look. "Rapunzel _and_ Superman? Sounds like you like heroes."

He isn't sure how much affection is appropriate to show in front of a sister, considering he's never had one. He looks down at his peonies and then up at Sam, quietly.

"What a coincidence, because I do too."

"I like when she hits Flynn over the head with a frying pan. I want to do that to Stevie sometimes but Mommy says I can't," Stacy chatters, oblivious to the fact that her big brother is looking over at Kurt and going to mush over that last comment. He's not any kind of hero, but it sure is nice that Kurt thinks so.

"I've been giving her and Stevie comic book lessons. She likes Superman more than Batman because she thinks Batman's 'ears' are stupid, but I'm hoping she grows out of it."

Kurt lifts an eyebrow at Stacy.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that. Think about how he'd look without them! Like a big black... bowling pin."

Sam snorts and Stacy laughs brightly, sitting up and leaning toward Kurt with interest. "What's your name?"

He holds out his hand with gentlemanly grace. "Kurt Hummel. It is a pleasure to meet you, Stacy Evans."

Stacy grins and shakes his hand with both of hers. "Hi Kurt! You're pretty. Do you like my brother?"

Kurt chuckles nervously before preening a bit at his hairline with his free hand, trying to look nonchalant but mostly seeming clumsy and disoriented.

"I-I do, yes."

Stacy grins, apparently satisfied by the answer. "Good. Will you be my boyfriend if you're ever not his?" 

Sam brings a hand to his face and shakes his head, laughing. His sister can alternate between painfully shy and painfully outspoken in seconds flat. "Stacy!"

Kurt laughs again, though with delight this time, before looking down at his bouquet. He plucks out one of the peonies and holds it out to her, beaming.

"I promise. My posy is my bond."

Sam hadn't even really noticed the bouquet before, and now that he does, he lights up. Kurt is so freaking sweet. And now his little sister thinks so too. She bounces on her knees and clutches the flower tightly, grinning at Kurt. 

"Thanks! We can get married someday. I'll be seven soon." 

She bats her eyelashes and Sam gives her a fake pained smirk, shaking his head, then sits up a little to set a hand on Stacy's head. "Okay, I think you need to go see if mom needs help with dinner."

"I'll see you soon," Kurt assures her as she pouts, smiling as he watches her shuffle stubbornly from the room. 

Once they're alone, Kurt is sort of unsure how to begin again. He looks back at Sam. Hesitates. Notices that there's a glass of water on Sam's bedside table and decides to commandeer it for his flowers. He sets them in the water and arranges them thoughtfully, still smiling.

"She's adorable."

Sam chuckles and nods, pushing himself up against his headboard. "Yeah, she is. Just gotta fix her taste in superheroes." He smiles at Kurt. "Thanks for the flowers."

Kurt tilts his head at Sam, acknowledging the gratitude with another smile. "Your mom got the peanut brittle. Hope she's not allergic."

"Brown-noser." Sam's grin stretches his cheeks. "And she's not."

"What?" Kurt shrugs innocently. "A good impression is very important. Especially when my name has not been associated with the best things in your life lately." The last bit is said in a wry tone, and Kurt's lips begin to form a thin line, which makes Sam's grin falter. _No way is Kurt gonna start believing that BS._

"What, like, me having a boyfriend? Me walking around the house singing even more than I used to? Me being really freaking happy? Dude, I'm pretty sure your name's like my parents' favorite one right now."

Kurt's smile is a little bit strained in response. He does believe what Sam's saying, and it's making him feel a bit better, even when he has to sit there saying it and looking like that. Kurt is quiet for a moment before finally broaching the topic in a hushed monotone.

"I was there with you in the nurse's office, before the ambulance came. I don't know if anyone mentioned it."

"Oh." The frown draws Sam's brows together. "So... you saw..."

He doesn't actually know what he looked like, but he knows it wasn't good. His heart drops. The thought of seeing Kurt like that... unconscious, bloody... he wants to puke.

That close-to-crying crease is back in his forehead as Kurt nods briefly.

"I thought- it looked. Bad." His voice cracks and he looks at his knees intently for a second to make sure that he won't start to cry. He breathes in as he looks up, his voice sharply vindictive to compensate. "And not a single one of those neanderthal degenerates expelled."

Sam watches, frowning, desperately needing to reach out and comfort him. It's only the sudden anger that stops him and makes him shake his head.

"I know. My mom was up there yelling at Figgins for like, ever."

Sam doesn't know what else to say about it. They're both already thinking anything he could say. "Whatever. It's just a bump."

Kurt's eyes widen, his jaw tense and his hand on his knee suddenly tight, whether with anger or with sadness he's unsure. "... You're kidding. Please tell me you're kidding."

Sam bites his lip. Wrong thing to say. He just wants to somehow make this better for Kurt, make him feel less guilty for something that wasn't his fault anyway. And he doesn't know how to do that except to keep reassuring Kurt that he's fine.

"Look, I just meant... I'm okay. You don't need to worry about me. "

The tension in Kurt's face loosens before he stands and shifts over to sit on Sam's bedside carefully. His voice is quietly serious, his words carefully chosen, and his expression as he looks at Sam's bruised face full of concern.

"Of course I'm going to worry."

Sam looks at him, almost shivering at the sincerity in his eyes. God, Kurt really cares about him, doesn't he? If it's even half as much as Sam cares for him... that's a lot. He takes his hand gently.

"It wasn't your fault."

Kurt swallows heavily, trying to keep that gentle tone and not protest too strongly.

"It's _Karofsky's_ fault. But you were fighting because of me."

Sam shakes his head and squeezes the hand in his tightly.

"We were fighting because he's a violent, homophobic asshole who was looking for a fight. It doesn't matter how you spin it, Kurt. Bottom line? I want to be with you. You make me happy. You're really gonna act like you're doing something wrong by making me happy?"

It's frustratingly hard to argue with that. Kurt sighs, always disliking to lose an argument, but he squeezes back.

"I don't want this happening again."

"It won't. They can't risk it and they know it. Figgins can't let them hide behind their jerseys forever."

Kurt frowns, shifting forward tentatively. He knows and even, actually, usually enjoys how ready Sam is to defend both of them. But if Sam starts throwing punches, that would excuse their retaliation yet again.

"And if they switch to good old-fashioned verbal abuse?"

Sam pauses, tilting his head. This is one of those things where Kurt's saying something without saying it, cause he's looking for a certain answer. He has a tone when he does that.

"This you asking if I'm gonna try to kick their asses first?"

Kurt's lips tighten, because for a second he doesn't know where to go with this. On one hand, Sam's protectiveness is ridiculously endearing. He wants to communicate that. On the other, it could land Sam back in the hospital and with, still, no way to get retribution. Kurt can't see that sight again, Sam unconscious and injured. His voice finally emerges, blankly.

"... Are you?"

"No." Sam knows the answer, because in the locker room, before the fight had broken out, he'd remembered what Kurt had said and wasn't going to try anything. He hadn't thrown a punch until he absolutely had to. "I can ignore whatever they throw at me."

Course if they threaten Kurt's safety it might be a different story but Sam'll just have to figure that out when he gets there.

Kurt's smile grows slowly and his thumb moves a little over top of Sam's hand. As if he's offering a reward, Kurt then gives Sam a little innocent smirk.

"You didn't get to see the state in which you left Karofsky, incidentally."

Sam laughs softly, glad to have gotten that smile.

"Yeah? Did I mess him up good? Bet it was an improvement."

"I didn't know it was possible to make that face even less appealing." Kurt leans forward, a giggle around the edges of his words that's inspired by Sam's smile.

"How's mine looking?" Sam turns his head from side to side, giving Kurt his best model chin lift. "I totally rock the Tyler Durden look, right?"

Kurt's smile wobbles a little as he looks at Sam and reaches toward him gingerly, too scared to actually touch those ugly marks.

"... Does it hurt?"

Sam shrugs, instantly feeling crappy because he hadn't meant to change the mood. He just wanted another laugh.

"Not really. Kinda sore. Mostly it's just my head."

Too serious again, but he can't help it. Kurt sniffs again and then smiles, tapping one finger against a nonbruised spot on Sam's cheek.

"Well, don't worry. Even like this, you're more handsome than Taylor Lautner."

Sam chuckles and lifts his eyes to Kurt's. "Oh come on, we both know that's bull."

He reaches up and takes Kurt's hand from his cheek, squeezing it, then shifts and leans forward to rest his forehead to Kurt's.

"Hey... I'm fine, alright? I promise. I'm fine."

Kurt suddenly wants very... very much to kiss him. His eyes drift down to Sam's lips rather tellingly, but he's not about to go there first when Sam's like this.

"I just don't want to hurt you."

Sam would be the one moving forward into that kiss already if he didn't have something else to say first. He doesn't know if Kurt meant that statement about right here and now, physically, or... ever. And he figures it doesn't really matter since the answer's true either way.

"You won't."

If Sam is sure that he's not going to disturb some inscrutable aspect of the healing process, then Kurt will trust him, for both of the answers he's just implied. Kurt closes his eyes, takes a small breath in and out against Sam's lips, and then shifts forward. He doesn't intend for this to be a peck. He wants to try to show Sam with one kiss how scared he was, how this entire situation has made him realize how deep his feelings really are. It's a lot to try to demonstrate, and it's a big message, but from the second Kurt's lips touch his, Sam's pretty sure it reads loud and clear. The kiss is somehow soft and sweet, even as it grows heated. It's slow, and deep, and takes Sam's breath away, and Kurt's hand cups his face with so much care, it's like he was never injured at all. He's dizzy and he doesn't think the concussion has anything to do with it. And maybe it totally isn't what Kurt would want to hear cause he'll just freak out again, but Sam knows right now he'd do absolutely anything to keep Kurt safe. Anything.

When he finally needs to break for air, Kurt rests against Sam's shoulder, eyes still closed and breathing quietly.

"We should probably cool down, or Stacy's new boyfriend could get in trouble."

Sam grins, a hand sliding gently around the back of Kurt's head. "Hey, you're only her boyfriend if you're ever not mine."

Kurt smiles a quirked little smirk of a smile and kisses Sam's cheek promptly, speaking without fully considering his words as he leans back.

"Never going to happen."

Sam takes a quick breath in, eyes bright and following Kurt when he pulls away. A small smile tugs at his lips and then breaks into a grin. It's exactly what he was hoping to hear.

"Damn right it's not."


	6. Two Musical Interludes

They'd been watching a film together after dinner, winding down as the pain pills that Sam took have their effect. Kurt was brave enough to accept the invitation to sit on the bed with Sam, and despite blushing nervously when his parents came in to say goodnight, there was nothing said about the choice. The credits start to roll, music playing over them, and Kurt looks down by his shoulder. Sam is fully slumped down on his pillow with his hair just barely fanning out, eyes closed. Those pills mean that Sam is out for the count and wouldn't wake up for an earthquake. Kurt smiles at him, feeling his heart thud and ache again at the contrast between those dark bruises and the peaceful expression. Sam may not believe that he's a hero, but he is. He's Kurt's. He stands up when it would be simpler to back down. He pushes back, he remains proud... and there's never been anywhere that Kurt's felt safer than when he was wrapped in Sam's arms in that music room. If only they were really safe.

The [music](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gza-E4k_1OE) of the the credits seems to become louder and Kurt looks down at Sam's hand as he remembers the words to this song. He slips his own into it and tilts his head to the side.

" _I... don't tell anyone about the way you hold my hand, I..._ " He slides lower on the bed so that he can look at Sam's face, his eyes bright and sad and earnest. " _Don't tell anyone about the things that we have planned, I. Won't tell anybody. Won't tell anybody._ " Kurt shakes his head tightly, the wince creeping into his expression. " _They wanna push me down, they wanna see you fall, down._ "

Kurt slides all the way down so that Sam and he are lying facing each other, barely inches apart. " _I... won't tell anybody that you turn my world around, I...._ " 

He lifts a hand and touches the pads of his fingers to Sam's cheek. " _Won't tell anyone that your voice is my favorite sound, I. Won't tell anybody._ " _If it will save you, if it will protect you._ Kurt feels his chest draw tight again, like it had when he'd first walked through the door, his brows lifting together with worry. " _Won't tell anybody, they wanna see us fall, they wanna see us fall down._ "

Kurt can close his eyes and imagine, in the still of the house and the swell of the music. Sam's been learning how to waltz, with Kurt's help. Both of them in suits, Sam's black and his white, dancing in the auditorium together in time to the music as he sings, half breathless.

" _I don't need a parachute, baby, if I've got you. Baby, if I've got you, I don't need a parachute._ " Sam spins him and dips him down suddenly, he can imagine so clearly that feeling of weightlessness, dizzy behind his closed eyes before Sam pulls him up and holds him even closer than before. " _You're gonna catch me. You're gonna catch if I fall._ "

He can even imagine Sam's lips moving close to his in the auditorium. _Don't believe the things you tell yourself so late at night._

Kurt opens his eyes to see Sam lying across from him and his brow creases with worry as he continues to sing. " _And... you are your own worst enemy, you'll never win the fight._ " He squeezes Sam's limp hand firmly as if tethering him to the ground. " _Just hold onto me. I'll hold onto you. It's you and me up against the world, it's you and me._ "

His gaze drops down, the sick fear evident in his pained and self-effacing expression. " _I... don't believe anything, don't trust anyone but me._ " He looks again at Sam's eyelids and tries to communicate, just with that glance, how much Sam has already done for him. " _But I believe you when you say we're never gonna fall._ "

Kurt flips abruptly over on the bed, gently pulling one of Sam's arms around his shoulders and feeling that instant warmth and safety flow through him again, his eyes closed. " _Hand behind my neck. Arm around my waist. Never let me hit the ground, you'll never let me crash._ "

He opens his eyes and smiles a soft, tender smile. He doesn't deserve this kind of love, this kind of protection. He can't help but think it, but he also can't help but never want it to leave. He feels like he could do anything with these arms around him, with Sam's breath so close.

" _I don't need a parachute, baby, if I've got you. Baby, if I've got you, I don't need a parachute._ "

That smile is the same one that he wears in the hallways as people stare at him openly now that Sam isn't there, as people throw paper airplanes at his head, or laugh and make crude gestures behind his back. Complacent, he walks steadily, remembering that feeling of Sam's arms. The sight of Sam's smile. " _You're gonna catch me. You're gonna catch if I fall._ "

He imagines, even if he can't see, the mouths of the crowd moving around him vindictively. _Down, down, down._ But his song stays with him, even as he sits in class and can see Karofsky glaring at him through the window to the classroom. Kurt just lifts his chin upward and continues to smile.

" _I don't need a parachute, baby, if I've got you. Baby, if I've got you, I don't need a parachute._ "

He doesn't even wince, now, when the jocks catch him alone (and it's only alone, they don't dare try to touch him when he's with company) and knock his bag to the floor, hit his phone out of his hand, stuff notes through his locker door with 'FAG' scrawled in hateful black and red ink. Kurt's expression never changes.

" _You're gonna catch me, you're gonna catch if I fall._ "

Three times, he hits the lockers in that week, each violent shove from Karofsky making his shoulder rebound loudly from the metal. _Down. Down. Down._ Sam will never find out. No one needs to ever find out.

And it wears on him, it does, even if he finds strength in Sam, even if he's getting much better at faking his calm. Every time he opens his locker, he looks immediately to the printed picture of he and Sam that they took in front of a movie theater. He reaches up to touch Sam's smile and mirrors it on his own lips. His finger traces a little heart on the image.

" _I won't fall out of love, won't fall out of. I won't fall out of love... I won't fall out of. I won't fall out of love, I won't fall out of. I won't fall out of... I fall into you._ "

 _Love_. It's what he feels, lying on that bed with Sam. Kurt sits up reluctantly so that he can look down at Sam and move one stand of blonde hair. It doesn't matter if it's too soon, and the word terrifies him. It's too strong to push down. His voice is quieter this time. He has to leave, Sam needs rest. He just needs to say it again.

" _I don't need a parachute, baby, if I've got you. Baby, if I've got you, I don't need a parachute. You're gonna catch me. You're gonna catch if I fall._

 _I don't need a parachute, baby, if I've got you. Baby, if I've got you, I don't need a parachute. You're gonna catch me. You're gonna catch if I fall..._ "

~~~

News about what happened to Sam spread fast. Of course it did, it's McKinley. There's the wild, totally ridiculous versions of the story flying around, but Mike and Artie straighten that out with the glee club pretty quickly. When they try to skirt around Finn's involvement, Rachel demands an explanation from him. He doesn't really have one. Rachel can't help but feel disappointed in him. Not that she would ever condone violence. But she certainly does condone doing more than just standing there when your friend who is protecting someone else really important to you is being beaten to a bloody pulp. What's so frustrating is that she knows Finn is stronger than that. He's better than that.

Poor Sam... poor Kurt. Poor Kurt is more the prominent thought in her mind right now, though, as she strolls down the hall and sees him at his locker. His whole body looks heavier than usual - not in the sense that he's gained weight, no, Kurt Hummel would not allow that. But he looks... worn. Tired and sad but trying not to show it... Rachel knows that look well, from the mirror. Even his hair seems to be drooping, which is a surefire sign of bad news when it comes to Kurt Hummel.

Luckily, she has a foolproof plan to make this whole situation better. He just has to agree to it.

"Kurt! Can I talk to you for a moment?"

Kurt's eyes shift to the abruptly appearing Rachel before he rolls his eyes and begins to change out textbooks and beauty projects from this bag.

"Despite whatever Brittany is spreading around, I am not a _Seventeen_ advice column come to life, I just informed her that her scrunchies were shedding in the choir room like dying cats. And I don't want to hear about you and Finn."

That book hit a little bit hard into the back of his locker.

Rachel hadn't really expected an immediately warm, welcoming response. Kurt runs cold with her even when he's not dealing with a concussed boyfriend and a neanderthal who may or may not still have it out for him. They've had moments of true understanding of course, but so far their conflicts still outweigh their treaties. But this is so much more important than a petty diva rivalry.

"It's not about Finn... or scrunchies. I wanted to talk to you about... Sam, actually."

Kurt's look toward her is more calculating this time. Rachel can almost see the wheels turning as he tries to decipher her game. "He'll be back in school by the end of the week."

"That's great!" Her tone overly enthusiastic, but sincere. Like most things Rachel Berry does. "It's just... I've been thinking a lot about what he did. It was very brave and honorable, and while I consider myself a pacifist and violence to be a sign of evolutionary failure, I understand that sometimes one has to take a stand to protect the people he cares about. To be a true leader."

She pauses, recharging for the most important part of what she has to say.

"I thought maybe we could do something... Together. To show how much we appreciate what he did."

For most of Rachel's speech, Kurt is surprisingly touched. His eyes glaze as he looks into his locker and briefly at her. _A true leader. Sam is that. If only it didn't come with so much pain._

Yet at the end, he frowns at her and closes his locker with his usual distrust. "Don't even think about saying bake sale."

Rachel starts to smile again. She has his attention, at least. "While I have the utmost faith in both of our abilities as budding Betty Crockers... no. I was thinking more along the lines of... a duet." 

Kurt's still waiting for the catch, that's obvious, but for once Rachel seems genuine. He eyes her with tentative permission. "Go on."

"I thought... what better way for the two of us to show our appreciation than doing what we do best?" She pauses, biting her lip. In spite of everything, Kurt is one of the only people she feels comfortable showing vulnerability around. Maybe for the exact reason she's about to mention.

"You know... I think we're really a lot more alike than you think."

Kurt's brow becomes even more concerned before he spins an effortless turn and begins to walk down the hallway, allowing for Rachel to follow. "That's a horrible thing to say," he muses instinctively.

Rachel frowns as she goes to his side, unsure of how seriously she should take that. Still, she pushes on.

"It's just... I know before Sam, you were lonely. I know what that's like. And I know what it's like to finally have someone and feel like you don't deserve it, to wonder constantly if you're good enough and if you can give as much as you feel like he's giving you. If this is just some big cosmic joke that's about to tell you the punchline, because we're special and that doesn't usually mean happy."

She pauses, a little flushed, and shakes herself out of it. She clears her throat, the utmost picture of composure again.

"Anyway. I thought it would be nice to show him how much it means that he did what he did... And that he's special too. Plus... come on, we both know the two of us would sound fierce together. It's time we embraced our mutual fabulousness. "

To be honest, Kurt had been partly serious. Him, like Rachel Berry, the heteronormative, bossy, always has her self-centered two cents to throw in, pampered princess of the glee club. But the more she speaks, the more Kurt slows, his eyes staring at his shoes until he stops at the end of the hall and looks at her with a wounded but grateful empathy in his eyes, having broken through the defenses in only a few sentences and a coloring in her cheeks. They're special. They're the same kind of special, really, even if she's the one who always steals his solos. There's a pain in Rachel that's the twin to his own.

Kurt's lips just barely turn up, his words more delicate.

"That's true. You _would_ complement my range in a way that showcases my abilities."

Slowly, Rachel's face turns to a smile, then a grin. It's just a duet. But to her, to the girl who just wants to belong, to have a Galinda to her Elphaba... gaining some morsel of acceptance from Kurt Hummel feels like everything.

"And you would provide the perfect blend alongside my voice without overpowering it!"

She smiles sheepishly when her own words hit her.

"Anyway, you won't regret this. I happen to have the perfect song chosen already and I think you'll find it becoming of both of our mutually excellent taste and repertoire."

Kurt's nose wrinkles briefly, beginning to tease her the way he teases his friends rather than his enemies. "Let me guess. Streisand."

Rachel is able to relax again, an eyebrow warmly lifting up above her hopeful grin. "Can I assume that's not a protest?"

"Not at all. You're not the only one who can do her justice." Kurt preens playfully and then chuckles, shouldering his bag higher. "Rehearse tonight, perform at the end of the week?"

"Perfect. I'll scrounge up the sheet music, I have every Barbra songbook ever released." She pauses, finishing more sincerely: "I'm really glad we're doing this, Kurt."

With another smile, she whirls in dramatic Rachel Berry fashion and saunters off down the hall, still smiling and feeling like something big just happened that could very well change everything.

On Friday, Sam goes back to school. His parents keep telling him he really doesn't have to, what's even the point of going just one day out of the week. And Sam knows what they're trying to do. They're scared. What good parents wouldn't be? But Sam has absolutely had it with being in his house. He's going totally stir crazy. He misses his friends and glee and his boyfriend, even though he's seen Kurt more than once this week.

And yeah, he spends a lot of Friday glancing over his shoulder, and it's clear even if they don't say it that Mike, Artie, and now Puck are staying way closer too him in the halls than usual. Part of him is embarrassed. Most of him is touched.

Finally, he's in glee again and it's pretty much the best he's felt in a week. Next to Kurt sitting with him and lying at his side, though he remembers a lot of that through a vicodin-induced haze. Kurt's been strangely tight-lipped all day, but Sam chalks it up to him being worried like his parents, so he just smiles at him a lot and holds his hand extra tight.

Sam's presence makes all of the last week's bruises worth it. Kurt watches as people smile at Sam, shaking his hand, clapping him on the shoulder, giving him sideways hugs. He's a hero here and everyone knows it, and they're treating him like it. Kurt lets him have the spotlight without a fuss, just watching on and appreciating the spectacle from where he sits.

Mr. Schue enters and Kurt straightens, preparing himself for Rachel's interruption that will serve as their cue. 

"Alright! First order of business... welcome back, Sam Evans!"

Sam laughs, shaking his head while the glee kids catcall and clap for him. "Thanks guys. Really happy to be back."

He sits back down just as Rachel jumps up. She straightens her skirt out and clears her throat. "On that note, Mr. Schue and fellow glee clubbers, Kurt and I have prepared a selection in honor of Sam's return. If we may?" 

Without waiting for any kind of response from Schue, Rachel takes her place in the middle of the floor and pulls over another stool for Kurt. Sam furrows his brow and looks over at his boyfriend, then back at Rachel.

"You've um... what?"

Kurt squeezes Sam's hand one more time as he stands and slips away, looking very pleased with himself. "Stranger things have happened."

He sits primly on the stool beside Rachel and smiles at her, then back at Sam.

"Even if you don't believe it, everyone in this room thinks that you're a hero. This is..." Kurt turns to look at Rachel with all the gratitude the gesture deserves. He won't say he was wrong about her, not yet. But it means a lot for her to do this with him. "Our way of saying that we do too."

Sam lets out a breath, surprised and already full of the desire to protest, but the song starts too quickly. He sits back, hands on his lap, watching in bewilderment but with a warmth blooming in his chest.

Rachel restrains herself to 20% of her million-dollar-show-stopper smile, her eyes shifting from Kurt to Sam, and starts to [sing](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cQY67AEi73g).

" _Day after day... I must face a world of strangers, where I don't belong. I'm not that strong. It's nice to know that there's someone I can turn to, who will always care... you're always there._ "

Kurt echoes her on each of the lines that lift upward, matching her note for note. His gaze is on Sam to gauge his reactions, but then the chorus arrives and he looks to Rachel and smiles, enjoying the blend of their tones in the air.

" _When there's no getting over that rainbow, when my smallest of dreams won't come true._ "

Then Rachel fades away and Kurt sings alone, looking toward Sam again. " _I can take all the madness this world has to give. But I... won't last a day without you._ "

Sam doesn't think he's ever cried in public before, and he really doesn't want to start now. But his eyes are definitely starting to feel glassy, his lip is definitely wobbling. At least just a tiny bit. It's just that he's looking at Kurt, and he can see and hear how much he means those words, and he thinks it's all wrong because Kurt is stronger than anyone in the world and Sam probably couldn't tie his shoes without him. But it's so... so real, and so sweet. And it's not just his boyfriend but a girl who hasn't had the easiest time herself, thanking Sam for something he didn't even think was any kind of act of bravado - he was just trying not to get killed, really - but Rachel thinks he's this amazing person too. Apparently, the whole club does.

And as Sam looks at Kurt's face and sees the absolute faith he has in him, it's so freaking hard not to cry.

Rachel and Kurt harmonize the next verse and chorus, growing a little louder and then drawing back again for effect, leaning against one another as they sing.

" _So, many times when the city seems to be without a friendly face, a lonely place. It's nice to know that you'll be there if I need you. And you'll always smile, it's all worthwhile._

 _When there's no getting over that rainbow, when my smallest of dreams won't come true... I can take all the madness the world has to give. But I won't last a day without you._ "

The affection in the room is almost stifling, and even Santana looks like she's smiling, at least a little. Kurt is alternately beaming at Rachel in gratitude and admiration and gazing at Sam with absolute, overwhelming love. So much is packed into this one moment and Kurt can feel it working, that spark inside that means he's done it right, that this is a performance to remember.

He'd considered not singing this break. It certainly verges on intimate, and as he moves into it, his eyes close and one of his shoulders shrugs up. His cheeks heat as he sings toward that shoulder, crooning and swaying the note up and down even if he can't open his eyes to look at Sam just then.

" _Love, touch me... and I end up singing. Troubles seem to up and disappear. Oh..._ "

Come on. If he can press back up against Sam in front of the entire glee club wearing a corset and heels, he should be able to do this. Even if the comparison is invalid because he was playing a part and this is baring his soul, and, _stop thinking, just open your eyes at your boyfriend._

" _You touch me... with the love you're bringing. I can't really lose, when you're near._ "

Sam sucks in a breath. Every kid in glee could be staring at him and he wouldn't even care. It's not even the part Kurt was embarrassed about that has Sam's heart pounding. Touching, whatever, of course they touch, they're boyfriends. Even if - not like that yet. But no, that's not what Sam's focused on.

Kurt is... and those lines are... and... does Kurt? They're just lines in a song. Right? It's not like he's supposed to take every single word and line literally, that would be dumb. Just cause a song says... that word, a bunch of times, like every other song in the world does.

Except he can see it, right there in Kurt's eyes. Like he always can. Like he feels when they kiss. Like he felt when Kurt sat beside him in bed and sang as Sam fell asleep, when he thought he couldn't hear.

 _Love._ Kurt loves him. Kurt Hummel... loves him.

And he sure as hell loves Kurt Hummel.

Kurt sees something in Sam's eyes that causes a flush under his skin for an entirely different reason. _He knows._ Sam knows, he can tell. And while it's terrifying, that light behind Sam's pupils also gives him that added push of confidence to lift his chin again, really belting, Rachel echoing him but letting him take the strongest tones.

" _When you're near!_ "

Kurt's voice fades away as the breath leaves his body along with the note and then there's just Sam and a silent conversation between them that nonetheless feels like it's filling the room. Rachel sings alone, her eyes sliding to look at Finn, and some of the sincerity in her voice turns bitter as her jaw tightens.

" _And love, if all my friends have forgotten half their promises, they're not unkind, just hard to find._ " 

She turns toward Sam again, tossing her hair back over one of her shoulders. " _One look at you and I know that I could learn to live without the rest, I found the best._ "

Rachel taking Kurt's hand is all that breaks the connection between him and his boyfriend. He jolts minutely, but then blinks toward her and smiles as they sing the last chorus together. They close their eyes when they eventually move into those louder notes, swaying toward each other and back with the rhythm and watching other members of the glee club rocking in time as well out the corners of their eyes.

" _When there's no getting o-ver that rainbow...when my smallest of dreams won't come true! I can take all the madness this world has to give...but I won't last a day without you._ "

Kurt grins at Rachel, lifting his brows as he interjects into her extended note. " _No, I won't last a day... without you._ "

She beams back and does the same. " _Can't last a day..._ "

They finish together, holding hands and beaming toward Sam. " _Without... you._ "

The room quickly fills with warm, genuine applause. Mike gives Sam an encouraging pat on the back. Schue is still clapping as he thanks Kurt and Rachel for the beautiful number, and then suddenly Sam realizes he hasn't done anything yet. Not even clapped. He sniffs and quickly scrubs his hand across his eyes before another couple of tears can make it out. On shaky legs, he stands and crosses the floor - first to Rachel. He wraps her in his arms as she slips off the stool and hugs her tightly.

"Thank you."

He feels her smiling as she nods. "Thank _you_ , Sam." 

He lets her go and she drifts back toward the rest of the club so that he can turn to Kurt, who is watching the exchange with a nervous kind of impatience. For a moment, Sam meets his eyes and bites his lip in some lame attempt to keep from feeling overwhelmed again. There's too much. Too much to feel and too much to say. He takes a breath and pulls Kurt into a crushing hug, clearly very different than the one he'd just given Rachel, right there in front of the whole glee club. _Just try and pry him away, see what happens._

Kurt breathes Sam in as he holds him close. He'd made Sam cry. This song really was perfect, he had to hand it to Rachel - it hit everything that he'd been wanting to say to Sam but couldn't seem to come close to without wanting to burst into tears himself. He's so very proud of him, proud to be next to him, so very in love, but also so very, very scared of ever being without him now. _If Sam ever left... if he hadn't woken up._

Kurt clings to the fabric on Sam's back for a few moments longer before he whispers.

"You're my everything."

Sam shuts his eyes as he squeezes tighter. He breathes in slowly and releases it, still shaky. This. All he needs is this. Those arms, that voice, this feeling. He could throw himself into every locker in the school and it would all be worth it, and that. That's why he doesn't feel like a hero. Heroes have to sacrifice, heroes have to make the tough calls to do what's right. What Sam did was never a choice.

"You too."

They could have stood there forever, but Santana makes a comment that Kurt doesn't fully hear but is sure to be full of snark. He pulls back finally, rolling his eyes at her and taking Sam's hand firmly as he leads them both back to their seats. He's sitting much closer to Sam after that song, angling his crossed legs toward him and looking toward him every other second for the remainder of glee. It feels good to be as open about his affection as he is right then. It's like a dam has burst, and everything that he's usually too socially anxious to do and to feel is (at least for this brief moment) coming out.


	7. Chapter 7

After all of that applauding bravery, Kurt begins to feel a bit less proud of his own passive responses to the actions of Karofsky and his friends. If he's celebrating what Sam did, if that's worth celebrating... then what is he doing? Why is he treating himself as not worth protecting?

For that matter, why does he need to be protected? What Rachel said keeps coming back to him - they're the two baddest divas in glee club. Does he deserve that reputation if he's just going to take what they keep serving to him? If he's going to stay in the dark? Maybe deserving Sam isn't just about keeping him from being hurt again. Maybe it's also about putting himself out there to take the fall instead.

As Kurt is standing, staring at his unopened locker and considering how to move forward, Karofsky happens to walk past and gives Kurt one of his usual shoves with his shoulder, though a bit harder than the ones he'd been receiving while Sam was absent. Kurt impacts with a clang and stares after Dave's back for a moment before lifting his voice above the bustle of the crowd, a trembling picking up in his veins.

" _Hey!_ "

He grabs his bag from off the floor and storms after Karofsky, who's entering the same men's room where they had that confrontation during Rocky Horror week. It's empty, just like it was then, but Kurt is swallowing any spark of fear he might feel and shouting at Karofsky's back again.

"I'm talking to you! What is your _problem_ with me, what have I ever done to you besides try to be happy, how am I so threatening to you?"

Within the space of one intake of breath, Karofsky spins and shoves Kurt back into the wall by the door, a hand in his shirt that isn't letting go. His jaw is tense and there's... something in his eyes that Kurt isn't used to seeing blended with the hate, that shocks him more than the bruise the wall gives him along his spine. The words Karofsky mutters are cold and on edge instead of gruff, nearly whispered.

"You coming for me now, Hummel? You wanna push me? Is that what you want?"

Kurt lifts his chin defiantly, staring right back. No wincing, not anymore. He practically spits his response.

"I don't think it's possible to explain to you what I want in words small enough for your minuscule monkey brain to understand, but I might as well try, since you're asking _so_ very nicely. I want you to leave me alone. I want you to leave _my boyfriend_ alone."

Kurt is about to continue, but those words, for whatever reason, seems to snap something in Karofsky and the side of his fist slams against the wall by Kurt's head. Kurt's eyes widen and his mouth shuts instinctively, which prompts Karofsky to lean forward, finally lifting his voice.

"Your _freak fairy sidekick_ got me detention for the rest of the _year_. What you 'want' doesn't mean _shit_ to me!"

But Kurt has had enough of fear and intimidation and backing down and he just shouts back, matching Dave's volume, barbs tumbling unstoppable out of his lips.

"Well then, what _does_ matter to you, you evolutionary reject?! What do you want from me, because I can tell you now that I am not going anywhere and I am never going to change. Do whatever you want to me, but I will _never_ stop being who I am. If you can't handle that, if I scare you that much, then why don't you just _hit_ me like you do everything else that threatens the safety of your boring, ordinary little world, you sad, _little_ child! Just go ahead and do it!"

Karofsky stares at him. Kurt could be imagining it, but he looks like he's shaking. Kurt certainly is. His fists are tightly clenched at his sides as he waits, heart pounding, for the stillness to break. Nothing. Nothing still. Kurt's eyes flash and he shouts again.

" _Hit me_ -!"

The end of the word is muffled, as Karofsky is suddenly broken and lunging forward to crush his lips into Kurt's. It's a savage kiss that feels almost as cruel as a punch, but it doesn't want to be. It's just hurting and desperate. The second that Kurt realizes what's happening, he lifts both of his hands and shoves Karofsky backward with a strength he didn't know he had, disgust and shock on his face. Karofsky stumbles backward panting, face drawn and wounded, pleading. He looks at the ground for a moment while Kurt stares at him, a whole disturbing world of understanding opening up before him. It all spirals around one point, though. The person who put his boyfriend into the hospital just kissed him. When Dave lifts his head toward Kurt, he takes a step forward and says his name, his first name for the first time, in a pained and cracked quiet voice.

"Kurt-"

But Kurt turns to run from the room, a hand covering his mouth. He races down the hallway, the thud of his boots on the ground mirroring the anxious thudding of his chest, and he doesn't stop until he bursts into the empty and dark auditorium and leans heavily back against the door. _Oh god. Oh god. Oh god._

He finally reaches into his pocket, secrecy forgotten, and fumbles frantically with his phone.

_Auditorium. I need you to meet me, right now._

For all his sports training and gym time and football games, Sam has never run so fast in his entire life than he does just then. He bumps into students, slams his shoulder against combination locks when he goes off balance, nearly face plants six or seven times, but it doesn't matter. He just keeps thinking of Karofsky's vicious expression in the locker room, and those assholes threatening to get Kurt when Sam couldn't help. Oh god, he'd been way too off guard, he'd assumed they wouldn't do anything else when they could easily be expelled after a second offense. He'd been so fucking stupid thinking they were safe when clearly the bullies had practically gotten off scot free the first time. And now something's happened to Kurt and if he's hurt Sam will never, ever ever forgive himself.

Huffing, Sam bursts into the auditorium and doubles over. He looks up after sucking in a few breaths and there's Kurt, walking back and forth on the stage with fast little steps, looking physically unharmed but with a distress on his face Sam doesn't think he's ever seen. He bounds over to the stage and pushes himself up.

"What happened? Are you okay?"

Kurt still has a hand over his mouth and the other around his waist as he paces. He can still... feel Karofsky's lips and it's making his stomach twist in sickening knots. It isn't repulsion, exactly. It's a tiny bit of guilt, mixed with tormented empathy and shock, with a wave of visceral horror every time he rethinks this story through. He stares at Sam as he mounts the stage, shaking his head quickly and not dropping his hand. Finally, it descends so that only three fingers still cover his lips and he speaks in a choked and nauseous voice.

"He kissed me."

Not what Sam had been expecting to hear. Not by a long shot. The answer throws him so much that he can't figure out an adequate way to answer. His mind spins with the possibilities. Someone kissed Kurt. Someone kissed _his Kurt._ And Kurt... is not happy about it. He looks terrified. It's not making sense, it's not adding up.

"Who... who kissed you?"

Kurt drops his fingers, shaking his head and looking toward the door with wide eyes, his arms clutching around his waist.

"Karofsky. He just... kissed me. He was pushing me around, I stood up to him, and he...."

" _Karofsky!_?" Sam breathes it on a sharp exhale. Somehow now that he has the answer he needed, he's even more lost than before. His blood feels like it could actually be boiling. Rage, confusion, a jealousy that doesn't even make sense because he knows without a doubt that Kurt would never, even if this person wasn't... Karofsky. So, no. Not jealousy. Possessiveness. And above all, a wildly intense surge of protectiveness. Because Karofsky didn't do this innocently. Karofsky hurts Kurt. That's what he does. And Kurt looks like he's about to fall apart.

" _Why_? Not that any answer is going to keep me from kicking his ass!"

"You know why."

Kurt frowns as he turns to look at Sam, confused by his own feelings as much as he is Karofsky's. He isn't... angry, exactly. He probably should be. But if... if David feels something for him, that must be doubly difficult to deal with. First, because he doesn't want to admit his feelings for men at all. Second, because Kurt is with Sam.

"It doesn't excuse what he's done, but you know that it makes sense."

Sam goes quiet, biting down on his lip. He shakes his head. This... it changes everything.

"You think... Karofsky's gay?"

Kurt's expression turns wry and he lifts one shoulder toward his ear, shifting back and forth on his feet. "And not all too happy about it."

Sam shakes his head again, sighing quietly. He runs his fingers through his hair before stepping in and cupping Kurt's cheek gently, trying to calm the shaking he can still see, those nervous twitching movements that show that Kurt's heart is still pounding. Quietly, he asks what Kurt probably can't answer yet anyway.

"What are you going to do?"

Kurt looks up at Sam, grateful for the anchor his hand supplies, searching in his eyes for some useful answer to that question.

"... I don't know - what can I do? I can't do for him what he wants me to."

Sam snorts without much humor, reaching out to tug Kurt closer by the hip. "You can say that again."

Kurt closes his eyes with a little smile, leaning closer and finally feeling the last of the panic ebb away. The protectiveness is endearing, he has to admit it. Safe, he's safe again, Sam is here. He can breathe and he can focus. He collects his words and speaks more carefully this time.

"I meant that I can't... make this any easier. Not that way, at least. I don't know if there's any way to."

Sam combs his fingers gently through Kurt's hair, around his ear. He's quiet as he traces Kurt's smile with his gaze.

"And you think I'm the hero."

Kurt opens his eyes, a mute frown of confusion on his face, and Sam's lips turn up into a melancholy admiration.

"You want to help him. After everything he's done to you... you still wish you could help him."

He hadn't even considered it that way. Kurt blinks and opens his mouth before he finds the words for what he hadn't even known he was feeling. "... I-I know what it's like. I've tried to hide who I am before. I remember how angry I was."

_You never hit anyone,_ Sam thinks. _You never tormented anyone. You never stalked anyone._ He shakes his head.

"You're the most... awesomely good person I've ever met, Kurt."

Kurt chuckles awkwardly and reaches up to fuss with a strand of hair. He's not that wonderful. Ask anyone whose fashion sense he's insulted.

"I'm really not."

Sam ducks in and kisses him, long and slow enough that it hopefully totally overpowers any trace of Karofsky that's left. Sam is really, really not okay with the thought of anybody else's lips where his are now.

"You really are."

Kurt is just as disturbed by the thought of this feeling being shared with someone else, especially given how close he came to admitting 'the big L' (not lesbians) in glee not that long ago. Which means Sam's kiss is very, very welcomed. Needed, actually. Kurt freezes for a moment as Sam speaks and then wraps both of his arms around his neck and pulls him back into an even more heated version of the kiss that just ended. Heated enough that his fingers eventually start sliding into Sam's hair, his heart starting to pound again. He doesn't think about what that kiss could lead to, or the message he's sending - the only message he's concerned with is, _this is for you. Never, ever give it away._

Sam makes a soft noise and draws both arms around Kurt's waist, pulling him in so they're pressed as close as they can be. Sam has this stupid, caveman repetition of 'mine, mine,' going through his head and he can't help it. Kurt is _his_ boyfriend, _his_ everything, _his_ living proof that the world doesn't suck. He loves him. He does. He doesn't know when he'll say it, it's still kinda terrifying and soon even if he sort of thinks Kurt feels it too. But he does, and the thought of losing him, or anyone else knowing what this feels like is... unbearable. Whatever message Kurt's sending, Sam's receiving it loud and clear and without complaint.

They're quickly both getting dizzy and forgetting that they're on school grounds, that's evident. Kurt's tongue is sliding against Sam's, his chest presses firmly against him with each swell of an urgent breath in, and one of his hands drifts down to touch, just barely and curiously, over one of Sam's bare biceps. The muscle is tense with how firmly Sam is holding him and Kurt is hit with a wave of attraction so powerful that it stuns him and makes that featherlight touch pull away into the air again as his knees shake.

Making out with Kurt is always good. Definite top five on Sam's list of favorite things to do, hands down. But he doesn't know if it's been like this before. Not just because they're in public, anyone could walk in. But because of the intensity, how much is being unsaid. How much has already been said. Somewhere in Sam's distant thoughts he's going, 'wait, come back,' to Kurt's touch on his arm. Not that he'd stop kissing him to say it. His heart's thudding in his ears and he can feel Kurt's against his even through layers of cotton or whatever fancy material Kurt's shirt is made from. And that has Sam wondering what it would feel like without it.

The heat between them finally grows to scalding and Kurt breaks the kiss with a sharp breath in, though he may not be helping matters by then tracing smaller kisses along Sam's jaw back toward his neck. His hand moves down and meets Sam's skin more solidly this time, mostly because he's about to lose his balance. Sam sucks in a breath, a shiver and a heated flush hitting every nerve ending at once. Shouldn't be possible but is. He breaths out again through his nose, arms still slung around Kurt's waist and tightening again on reflex.

"...Kurt."

He doesn't know if the murmur is an attempt to warn Kurt that they should stop... or they could face another Rocky Horror rehearsal incident. Or maybe it just falls from his lips without thought as he tilts into the kisses, no thought except that this is Kurt and this feels so good.

"Hm?"

Kurt kisses Sam's neck once more with a hum before pulling back to smile at him, dazed and dreamy. Sam slowly lets his eyes open to look into Kurt's. His cheeks are pink and his lips are full. Cold thoughts... cold, unappealing, unattractive thoughts.

"I... I think we should um. Cool down for a sec."

"Oh." Kurt takes a moment, and then blinks, faintly red. " _Oh._ "

There's the realization of what Sam means, and then there's... what. A bit of awkward uncertainty, and semi-guilt. They still haven't had this talk. Perhaps they should. He'd hate to have Sam think that he doesn't... feel something here. Kurt pulls his bottom lip between his teeth as he looks at Sam, wondering.

Now that the kissing isn't going on anymore and they're standing face to face, and looking at each other, and Kurt's waiting for some kind of explanation or answer even though he hasn't asked a question, now that this is happening... Sam suddenly realizes the hugeness of what's going on and, _ugh, no that is not an innuendo._ Sam's cheeks heat too as he looks down at his feet. He can't run away this time like he did at rehearsal. And he knows he wouldn't anyway. This is a real thing that is really happening and is gonna keep happening, and if he wants this relationship to last (and he does) they have to talk about it.

"I'm - sorry. I just um. Can't help it."

_Great start there, Sammy. Real smooth._

Kurt turns redder, but the last thing he wants Sam to do is to feel like he's judging him. It's not Sam that's the issue, he knows it's him. He's the weird one. It's a little funny, that they're this close but both suddenly looking at their respective shoes.

"No. You're not the problem."

"I'm - not?" Cause as far as Sam can tell, he's the one who can't kiss his boyfriend without popping a woody.

"I know that this wouldn't be an issue for... everyone. I've just never been - I. _God_ , I can't even say it." Kurt rolls his eyes at himself, scarlet and miserable with shame.

Sam manages to glance up now, Kurt's words distracting from their collective embarrassment. Because apparently, it's more than just embarrassment over this one awkward situation.

"You... haven't had sex? Cause, dude, I haven't either."

Kurt scoffs, his shoulders drawing up tight and voice shaking. "But you can _say the word._ "

"You... can't? Do you know why?"

It is insanely difficult to continue touching Sam while having this conversation. Kurt's hands slide down from Sam's neck and he sort of... leans away uncertainly.

"...What is there that's romantic, or elegant about some... sweaty fumble that's over in ten minutes, I-I don't even know how-"

He was going to continue, but those words in sequence are too painfully honest and they choke him and immediately make him even more uncomfortable. Kurt actively tries to pull away now, but Sam doesn't let him. He tugs his arms tighter around Kurt's waist instead and clasps his hands together at the curve of Kurt's back. He doesn't know why, mostly instinct. Maybe because he wants Kurt to know he doesn't have to feel uncomfortable speaking his mind. He should be able to talk to his boyfriend without feeling ashamed.

Sam knows that and wants to show it, but at the same time...he's trying not to feel hurt, and some of that comes through in his eyes.

"Is that... how you think of sex?"

_Wonderful_. He's doing a stellar job of having this conversation. Now Sam looks confused and a bit wounded and Kurt is frustrated with himself and _exceptionally_ uncomfortable, and it had been so nice just a second before. What he 'thinks of sex' is much too complicated to enter into here. That's... well, that's all he assumes that he can have, maybe? He can't imagine anyone being patient enough with his fears and uncertainties, anyone interested and willing to make 'it' anything other than awkward, brief, and disappointing.

"Can we please just... talk about what happened with David?" _Even that would be preferable, honestly._

Sam's lips draw tight as he frowns. "I don't really wanna talk about Karofsky right now, Kurt. I can't just pretend this never happened. Whatever this is, we can get through it, but I gotta know what it is first."

Sam finally loosens his arms and steps back to give Kurt the little bit of room he seems to need, but his hands still slide down Kurt's arms to grasp both of his hands.

"I wouldn't... pressure you, you know? If you're worried about that. I wouldn't."

"But you... want this. You'd want that, with me, eventually." Kurt isn't sure what sort of an answer he's expecting to that. He looks up into Sam's clear eyes, his own guarded.

Sam bites his lip, hoping this isn't a trick question.

"Well...yeah. Course I do, eventually."

It takes a moment for Kurt to work through his reaction to that. Sam knows about... an embarrassing number of his minor personal flaws at this point. And he knows that Kurt is uncertain about sex. But - he doesn't exactly seem turned off by it all? He said 'of course.' He said 'of course I do.' Kurt smiles a tentative little smile.

"...I can't tell you how long you'll have to wait."

Sam glances down again. He would love to be able to say, 'alright fine, whatever, easy peasy.' But he knows that's not the case and Kurt would know it too. It's not going to be _easy._ But then... it's not gonna be hard either.

Well. Okay, poor word choice. Yes, it is definitely going to be hard, probably a lot of the time, but it won't be difficult. Yeah, he's kinda horny overall and, yeah, he has a hot boyfriend and, yeah, his hormones go a little whack. But he doesn't 'have needs.' He has wants. Major difference. And his wants aren't any more important or valid than Kurt's. And, anyway, why would he even want to have sex with someone while that someone doesn't want to have sex? How could he possibly feel good thinking the guy he loves doesn't feel good? It would be stupid and just not the point of sex at all. Which is the connection on every level. Knowing you'll never be closer or more comfortable with anyone else. Can't have that without the comfortable part. Sam's voice is confident and gentle as his gaze lifts back up to Kurt's.

"I can wait."

As the fears begin, slowly, to drift away, Kurt knows that was exactly the right thing for Sam to say, and it was the right conversation to have. He isn't ready yet. He doesn't know when he will be. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't always sort of drawn to the drama and theatrics of a truly white wedding. Now _that's_ romance. Wedding nights have proper staging, costume changes, dramatic entrances, even soundtracks...

He will not be mentioning any of this to Sam. 'I want to give myself to you on our wedding night' is just a _bit_ over the top for how long they've been dating, and his feelings about sex could very well change with time. Maybe in a few months he won't break into a nervous sweat thinking about Sam seeing his bare arms, or worse, seeing him first thing in the morning before his haircare and moisturizer ritual. Sam is just so ludicrously perfect that Kurt would want that first... time to be worthy of him, and of them both.

And some day he'll know what that means, whether it's careful staging or just... a feeling. When he knows, then it will be time to consider it. For now, Kurt can simply feel flattered by Sam's obvious... attraction and know that it doesn't come with a price. His heart hurts again with how much he cares and is grateful for this brave, honest, caring person who likes him, seemingly, just as he is. He reaches up to touch Sam's cheek and leans in to delicately kiss him one more time.

Sam watches the soft smile move across Kurt's lips, and finally breathes for the first time since he'd spoken. It's hard to know a lot of the time if he's said the right thing, he's not so good at doing that. But it seems like he may have done okay. Seems even more like that when Kurt leans up and kisses him, a hand on his cheek. It's soft and sweet so Sam doesn't feel like he needs an ice bath, which is fine because this kind of kiss is just as awesome as the other, really. He settles a hand back on Kurt's waist and slowly pulls back, smiling. Kurt smiles back, full of gratitude, before sighing a little and breaking the mood.

"One potentially traumatic conversation down, one Karofsky-sized one to go."

Sam sniffs in response and lifts an eyebrow at Kurt, tentative. "...Can I come with you? When you talk to him?"

Kurt gives him a suspicious glance, eyes narrowed and chin tilted. "To protect me or to help me."

"I have to pick one?" Sam relies on those big innocent eyes and a grin, even if he knows it won't really work.

"If he thinks we want a fight, we will get a whole lot of nowhere." Kurt follows his mild sarcasm with a genuine look of concerned affection. "We want to help him. Just remember that."

Sam bites at the inside of his cheek, then sighs. He nods.

"Okay. I'll help. And I won't try to smash his face in unless he touches you first."

Kurt smiles at Sam, proud and grateful. Then he leans back and taps Sam on the chest with one finger.

"I.... have a brilliant idea for the song the glee club should finish off this week with."

It doesn't take much convincing for Schue, or the rest of the club, to agree to the idea. They all know the song at least a little, and while they don't know the full extent of what happened with Karofsky this week, they know the sentiment behind it is necessary.

So they all gather onstage after school on Friday. Sam breaks out his guitar, and the band starts up their instruments. It's been a long, exhausting couple of weeks. But the minute the [music](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TlFCfkyuQM0) picks up and Sam starts strumming the strings of his guitar, the world seems brighter. He does a little spin with his guitar, smiling over at Kurt sitting on a stool a few feet away. And then the world is brighter still.

" _We have fallen down again tonight. In this world it’s hard to get it right. Try to make your heart feel like a glove, what it needs is love, love, love..._ "

Kurt grins shyly at Sam as he sings, bobbing his leg in time to the rhythm and swaying back and forth. This feels perfect, after what they've been through, even if it isn't his usual. This is what they need. They need the safety and comfort of, cheesy as it sounds, love. The rest of the club sways the same way, infused with that infectious rhythm, lounging or leaning on various parts of the stage. Rachel, Tina, and Brittany take the chorus with a smile, Santana and Mercedes filling in the vocalizations.

" _Everybody, everybody wants to love. Everybody, everybody wants be to loved, oh, oh, oh. Oh, oh, oh. Everybody, everybody wants to love. Everybody, everybody wants be to loved, oh, oh, oh. Oh, oh, oh._ "

Then that rhythm picks up again and Mike stands up, doing a simple dance, a kick shuffle step and slide, with a body roll at the end. Brittany, Rachel, Santana, Mercedes and Tina skip over to fall in behind him and repeat it, while Finn walks nervously up to Kurt and half-smiles, holding out his hand - a peace offering after their differences. Kurt gives him a smile in return, then rolls his eyes dramatically and takes the offered hand, jogging up to the front of the group with him and watching Mike's steps, then copying them. Sam laughs as he watches his friends, still somewhat mindlessly strumming away. He sidesteps over to Rachel and Kurt, trying to imitate their movements while playing which is hopeless since he can barely do it while he's not playing. As the next verse approaches, Rachel steps forward and predictably steals a line for herself.

" _Happy is the heart that still feels pain._ "

But then she reaches out for Kurt's hand, indicating that he can take the rest. Rachel Berry is capable of yielding the spotlight, surprise surprise. Kurt's eyebrows lift as he returns the smile, but he falls in seamlessly, looking out toward the empty theater.

" _Darkness drains and light will come again._ "

Out there in the darkness, there's a sliver of light. The door to the hallway is cracked open and someone stands there, facing the stage, just a black outline, but it's an outline with broad, stocky shoulders, hands shoved obstinately in pockets. Kurt looks toward that shape and blinks, uncertain, but willing to take on faith that these words in that direction might matter.

" _Swing open your chest and let it in. Just let the love, love, love begin._ "

Sam sways up beside him and nudges Kurt's shoulder before noticing where his eyes are trained. His fingers stop playing just for a few seconds while Tina, Quinn, and Artie harmonize.

" _Everybody, everybody wants to love! Everybody, everybody wants to be loved! Oh, oh, oh. Oh, oh, oh._ "

Sam is sure he can see him too. He's definitely there. He looks over at Kurt again for a reaction, because how Kurt reacts dictates how Sam can react. Kurt doesn't look angry or afraid or anything. He looks thoughtful, concerned. So Sam starts playing again, joining in the chorus and yielding the moment to the pair before Kurt seems to shake off the feeling and drift toward the rest of the singing group.

" _Everybody, everybody wants to love. Everybody, everybody wants to be loved, oh, oh, oh. Oh, oh, oh._ "

Different singers and couples take different lines, each having their little moment. Kurt hugs Mercedes as he sings, and Rachel goes sheepishly up to Finn and then smiles, taking his hands, and forgiving him just a little, thanks to that brief reconciliation with Kurt.

" _Everybody knows the love, everybody holds the love, everybody folds for love! Everybody feels the love, everybody steals the love._ "

As the others finish, Kurt steps again toward the front of the stage, looking at that dark shape and then taking the highest of high notes, belting it to the back row quite literally. Somewhere out there, David - it's David now, he didn't even realize, not Karofsky - is frowning and looking at him in the middle of the stage, trying to maintain an anger that keeps crumbling into agony.

" _Everybody heals with lo-ve! Oh, oh, oh, oh._ "

The last repetition of the chorus is up, and all the instrumentals stop to make way for just the voices. They all sing now, and clap in rhythm. Sam lets his guitar hang from its strap so he can clap too.

" _Everybody, everybody wants to love! Everybody, everybody wants be to loved! Oh oh oh, oh oh oh!_ "

Sam grabs Quinn's hand and spins her under his arm. She laughs and shakes her head before going back to swaying and clapping. Sam joins Kurt's side again, knowing what he's doing when he frowns toward that shape. He thinks of taking Kurt's hand, or wrapping an arm around his shoulders... but no. Not while he could be and probably is still here. Possessive as he might feel, he's also not cruel. If they want to help Dave, they won't do it by making things hurt worse for him. So Sam stands at Kurt's side but just keeps clapping, waiting for him to turn and smile.

" _Everybody, everybody wants to love. Everybody, everybody wants be to loved! Oh oh oh, oh oh oh!_ "

Their voices all break off, the clapping coming to a scattered end, and then they're all laughing and catcalling, whistling and hugging each other for a job well done and because this is what they do. They pull together and lift each other up, no matter what happens.

No one else probably notices over the ruckus except Kurt and Sam, but off in the back of the auditorium, a door creaks and clunks shut again, the sliver of light disappearing as if it was never there to begin with.


	8. Chapter 8

After the Karofsky debacle, which they put off dealing with until next week, they could honestly both use a bit of a break. When Sam told him that he was taking him out, Kurt became a beaming, awkwardly flirtatious mess all over again. A proper date would be _perfect_ right about now. They'd had 'the talk' about his issues - actually, they'd had several incarnations of 'the talk' by now, and none of them had scared Sam away. This is finally feeling settled. Real.

Which isn't to say that Kurt doesn't still spend an inordinate amount of time choosing exactly the right outfit, especially when Sam didn't say exactly where they were going. Surprises are _fantastic_ , except when you're trying to dress appropriately for them. He finally lands on his gray Westwood with the decal between his shoulder blades, accompanied by tight jeans and cowboy boots, hoping to get a smile from Sam with the homage to one of his boyfriend's favorite genres. 

He preens anxiously in the mirror in the hallway, waiting for the doorbell to ring or a knock to sound. His father nods toward him from the couch, mouth half full of sandwich. "You know, he's not gonna worry if you got a hair out of place. Guys don't think like that." 

Kurt rolls his eyes toward Burt before returning to preening. "I _am_ a 'guy,' and I do think like that."

Burt frowns, swallowing. "Not what I meant. Look, he likes you, right? So it's gonna be the same no matter what you've got on. It's you he likes, not the clothes you wear."

That's a bit nicer to hear. Kurt stops fussing, hands stilling in the air as he smiles at his father's reflection in the mirror, remembering yet again why he loves his good old dad more than just about anything.

Of course, then the knock finally sounds and Kurt's eyebrows lift as he scurries toward the door, composing himself en route.

Sam bounces on his heels outside as he waits for the answer, hands in his pockets. It's a nice day, all blue and sunny so it's warm, but cool enough to be obvious they're leaving warm days behind for the rest of fall. Sam wants to take advantage of it. He grins when Kurt opens the door.

"Hi. Oh - hey, I like your boots!"

Kurt does a few little turns back and forth, lifting his heel off the ground so show them off, clearly well pleased to be admired. "Oh, _these_ old things."

Sam laughs and shakes his head at the display. "You know, you're pretty adorable sometimes." On that note, he steps closer to the doorway and puts a hand on Kurt's shoulder as he kisses him hello. He leans back and nods behind him.

"Ready to go?"

Kurt is not to be trusted with language immediately after a kiss from Sam. He nods with mute pleasure, leaning toward the hatstand to grab his bag. The gesture gives him time to collect his voice again and he clears his throat.

"And where exactly am I ready to go?"

Sam grins, his voice giving the moment the drama it deserves. "We... are going on a picnic."

Kurt blinks his eyes wider, adjusting his bag on his shoulder and trying not to show the tension creeping up around the edges of his smile. "... Should I be bringing a checked blanket?"

"Nope, no need." Sam takes Kurt's hand to tug him swiftly out of the doorway. He'd caught Kurt's flash of fear, and while he wishes Kurt didn't have to feel nervous about something as simple as a date outdoors, it's good to know his plan had been the right move. "C'mon." 

"Oh!" Kurt chuckles as he's pulled outside and shouts a hurried, "bye" over his shoulder to his father. Burt calls out "have fun," back at him in a slightly knowing voice that Kurt ignores in favor of smiling in a determinedly carefree way at Sam.

"So... your car or mine?"

"Neither." Sam grins and squeezes Kurt's hand, leading him down the driveway and past the cars. "It's right around the corner."

 _Literally, actually_. Sam walks him down the sidewalk, around the back of the house, and up to the open gate of the back yard. Kurt shoots Sam playfully distrusting looks every other step until the little scene becomes visible between the white slats of his fence: a large green blanket spread on the grass, with a wicker basket in the center and a couple of fake roses lying beside it. Kurt gasps with delight and puts his free hand on his chest, turning toward Sam, stunned and grinning and shining wide, amused eyes on him.

" _Oh,_ my god. You marvelous thing."

That was even better than the reaction Sam'd expected. He smiles, lips pressed together between faintly red cheeks as he tries to shrug it off.

"Just figured, after everything... we'd probably be more comfortable this way."

"I _love_ it." Kurt confirms that by hugging Sam's arm close to his side before walking up to the blanket with him. As he kneels, he sniffs a rose without a scent and bats his eyes playfully. "Pour moi?"

Laughing, Sam nods and plops down on the blanket, one knee up and the other leg splayed. "I tried to put them in a vase but it wouldn't stay standing." He points at the thin plastic vase now lying pitifully in the grass next to the blanket.

"You know what they say about a man who can't keep his vase up."

Kurt uses his very best vaudeville wink-nudge tone that makes Sam snort, but then he grins as he picks up the vase, scoops up some dirt from the ground nearby along with tiny pebbles, and then pours it into the vase to weigh it down and center it. He sets the newly steady vase in the center of the blanket and proudly squirms the roses into it.

"And voila."

Sam raises his eyebrows, more impressed than he maybe should be, but to him Kurt basically just performed magic. He claps for him slowly, crooked smile on his face. "Woah. My boyfriend the genius."

"Oh, stop." Kurt chuckles as he pulls hand sanitizer out of his bag and cleans the dirt deftly from his fingers. "Just because I know my way around a floral arrangement."

"Genius enough for me." Sam grins and reaches for the lid of the basket. "Hope you like chicken salad. Light mayo." 

"Mmmm." Kurt leans sideways to rest on one arm thoughtfully. His posture, the curve in his spine and the tilt of his head, shows how very relaxed he can be here, with Sam and only Sam to see it. 

"I hope that whoever invented Light Mayo has a plaque somewhere. 'Hero of Dieting Divas Worldwide.'"

Sam looks up from the basket to grin appreciatively for a second before reaching back in to get out the not-so-neatly wrapped sandwiches. Well, he tried. He hands one to Kurt and then goes back into the basket for two cans of diet coke. And two napkins because Kurt would yell at him if he didn't have napkins.

"You don't need to be dieting anyway."

Kurt spreads his napkin carefully in front of where he leans and begins to unwrap his sandwich while giving his boyfriend a brief look, complete with lifted brows. "Neither of us do."

Sam starts peeling the tinfoil from his own sandwich, catching Kurt's pointed glance. He smiles tentatively. "I skipped the gym once this week." He'd felt guilty after, but not guilty enough to change his mind.

Kurt lifts his chin to smile at him again, feeling a surge of hope that glows in his cheeks. His fingers squirm over to brush Sam's knee. "I'm proud of you." It's not the end of the road, they'll have to build up to more days off, and and start negotiations for a reasonable amount of reps, but it's a start. An important start.

The warmth that spreads through Sam's chest when that expression hits him is enough to make his toes curl. He feels all... squishy. He looks down at his sandwich again just to make sure he can keep from like... crying or something. When he reels it in, he looks back up at Kurt and shrugs, nonchalant, before taking a bite. 

"It's cause of you."

"As much as I appreciate taking credit, sweetie, it really isn't. Not this. It's you." 

_Nope,_ Sam thinks immediately. _It was Kurt_. It was knowing someone cares for him, is attracted to him, wants to be with him with or without the six pack that Sam doesn't even believe he has half the time. Course, it is still nice that Kurt appreciates it. Anyway, he doesn't need to say all that, not now. Sam watches as Kurt takes his first little taste of his sandwich, then hears him make a pleased sound that might also be a bit surprised as he looks down at what he'd just started eating with widened eyes. Sam laughs at the shock in his expression. 

"What, did a bug get in there or something?"

Kurt's response is muffled through the bite of sandwich, one hand lifted and covering his mouth to avoid spray issues. His voice is just as surprised. "No - s'good!" In his defense, it hadn't looked like much.

Sam moves his coke can and scoots with his sandwich to Kurt's end of the blanket, shoulder bumping against his as he chuckles. "Thank my mom. I just put it on the bread."

For some reason, just that little bit of contact makes Kurt's expression somewhat bashful as he swallows his bite and leans back toward Sam. "I'll make sure to."

Glancing over at him and smiling, Sam takes another bite of his sandwich and then sighs as he leans back and rests his free hand on Kurt's.

"So, you nervous about sectionals coming up?"

Talk about competition immediately causes Kurt to sit a little straighter, but it's with confidence rather than fear. "Why would I be? The elderly aren't nearly energetic enough to beat us, and while I know nothing about the Warblers, I have faith in at least _my_ superior abilities."

"I dunno man, my grandma can still bust a move." After an eyebrow waggle that prompts a snicker from Kurt, Sam pauses. "The Warblers are pretty awesome. But we're better."

"And how do you know they're so awesome?" Kurt blinks, turning toward him.

"Oh. Uh, well... remember I said I went to an all boys school before going here?" Sam smiles sheepishly, and Kurt pulls farther back, his face going blank as his eyes widen.

"... You went to Dalton." Pause. "You know our competition and you're only just saying this _now_?"

"Um." Sam's eyes widen too as Kurt's warmth pulls away. "Guess I didn't think it mattered?"

"Sweetie. It _matters_." Kurt reaches out to Sam and holds his hand, a broad smile stretching his lips as excitement sparks in his eyes. "It matters, because now we can know what's coming."

"Oh." Exhale of relief as Sam squeezes his hand and shakes his hair to the side, smile returning. "Yeah, guess so. I hadn't thought about it like that. I mean, I don't know their set lists or anything. But I know their style. Their biggest weakness is they don't change stuff up enough."

"Hmm." Kurt hums innocently as he scoops up his soda and sips at it. "...Do you still know anybody there?"

Sam shrugs, finishing off his sandwich in a large final bite, then licking his fingers clean. He swallows and nods once. "Yeah. Me and their lead soloist are pretty tight, actually. Blaine."

The requisite suspicious eyebrow lift is performed. "'Tight' meaning..."

Sam blinks once he understands that tone, chin jerking back on his neck. " _Whoa_ , what, no. Not like - not like that, ugh. Ew. _Ew._ "

Kurt lets out a bright giggle at that response and knocks into Sam with his shoulder, swallowing his own last bite and shaking his head at their blanket. "Alright, alright! It had to be asked."

He lets the sound of his laughter fade as he traces a spiral with his finger, trying to sound positively angelic this time. "Maybe... we could hang out with him some time, though?"

Uh huh. Like that would work. "So you can try and get secret insider information out of him, James Bond?" 

Sam smirks and Kurt scoffs, rolling his eyes with exaggeration. "How _dare_ you. I merely want to connect with your past." It doesn't help his case that Kurt starts snickering halfway through his protestation of innocence.

"Yeah, okay. No hidden agenda whatsoever." Sam lets go of Kurt's hand and wraps an arm around his shoulders, shrugging again and nodding with a grin. "Sure, we can hang out with him sometime. He's cool, you'll like him."

That arm around him feels nice. Kurt sets down his Coke and looks beside him into Sam's eyes, smiling. The conversation is suddenly really not his focus any longer. "Why would I do a thing like that," he asks in a drifting murmur, leaning closer.

Who could just keep a conversation about his best friend going when that face is a couple of inches away? Sam smiles back at Kurt, trying to tell himself to remember for the future how he looks, all lit up with the autumn sun behind him. Soft and warm. Like a dream. Sam squeezes him just a little closer toward his side so all he has to do is tilt his chin to kiss him.

Kurt closes his eyes as he lets the kiss take over the moment, words drifting off into meaninglessness and head spinning. Sam turns inward, knees touching Kurt's, his hand trailing fingers through Kurt's hair gently when he pulls back. Kurt feels shivers run from his heart out through his veins as those hands muss his styling.

"Thank you," he murmurs, breaking the brief stillness and opening his eyes. "For this."

Sam just shrugs, not sure he can answer without a whole lot of emotion coming out. There's just... something about this moment, right now, that feels. Feels like everything. Maybe if Sam were better at words he could write a poem or something. But he's not. So he just... breathes, kinda shaky.

"Welcome. I, um. There's cookies and stuff too? If you want?" _Or we could just stay right here like this. For like, ever._

It might be cliche, and it might be suggestive, and it might make his smile a little pink, but Kurt still says it as he leans back in, his nose sliding along Sam's.

"I think I have my dessert right here."

Sam chuckles, grin absurdly wide. It's not too cliche for the boy who loves Adam West's Batman, and suggestive is totally fine with him. He gives Kurt another kiss and slides his other arm around his shoulders as he does.

 _Screw it._ Kurt uses the momentum of that lean in to tug Sam down, falling half onto the blanket and half onto the grass. He grins as they land, facing each other. "Better." He nods with satisfaction.

Letting out a briefly louder burst of laughter, Sam scoots and wriggles in close. He tightens his arms around Kurt's shoulders. "Much."

Kurt reaches up gently to touch Sam's chin as he laughs, trying to keep his own giddy smile under control. "You're perfect. Even if you'll tell me you're not. I'm risking grass stains for you, after all."

Sam glances down between them, predictably bashful. _Perfect. Special._ Kurt thinks he's both. And he doesn't feel like either, but for Kurt, he wants to be. "I think... you're the most amazing person ever, Kurt."

"Because of my overwhelming talent and fabulous fashion sense?" Kurt's fingers gently trace the outline of a bruise even as his voice teases. They still hurt to look at, but right now he's able to see strength and caring in them rather than just pain.

Sam sniffs out a smile, shaking his head. "That too." His eyes are soft when he looks back up at Kurt, just barely leaning into the light touches. "Cause you're... you."

Kurt closes his eyes as he smiles, his forehead brushed by stray pieces of Sam's hair that a gentle breeze pushes about. He can hear the rustle of the bushes, and a bird a few houses down. His voice is as quiet as he can make it, blending with the shushed sounds around them.

"I meant what I sang. I don't know how I'd have survived this week without you."

Sam's heart stutters over a beat. He remembers how he felt during that song, and with how quiet and peaceful things feel right now, he can feel it that much stronger. He remembers parts in particular. Words in it, really big important words. The memory calls up shivers. He bites his lip, trailing his fingers over Kurt's back and up his neck.

"You'd have been okay. "

Kurt's chest fills with anxious flutters and the skin underneath Sam's trailing fingers buzzes with warmth as he remembers what had gone unsaid between them. Kurt doesn't open his eyes all the way but his lids shift a bit and his lips almost smirk.

"And why would I settle for just 'okay'?"

"S'true. You shouldn't have to."

Sam hums softly, brushing his nose against Kurt's again. Who knew he was the type for Eskimo kisses? He thinks maybe with Kurt, he could be the type for anything. He feels so relaxed, here. Nothing can touch them. Nothing can hurt them or scare them, nobody can judge them. It's their space. He actually finds himself shutting his eyes a few times, blinking them slowly back open just before he can drift off. He takes his arm from under Kurt carefully, seeking out Kurt's hand to hold between them, his other arm still curled over Kurt's shoulders.

Kurt's fingers fold gently around Sam's. The sway of the branches overhead causes shadows that flicker over his eyelids and make him drift and the slowing of his heart rate means it's more difficult than usual to remember why they're holding back. His tone is still tentative and quiet when he begins.

"Sammy..."

"I love you."

Sam breathes it out at the same time Kurt says his name, bold in a way only sleepiness and total contentment can bring. He hadn't even realized it was about to come out until it was already past his lips. He sucks in a breath as he realizes what he's said, then laughs briefly and nervously because Kurt had been about to say something too and maybe he hadn't even heard Sam? He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, opening his eyes a little to try to find an answer, or a question, in Kurt's face.

Kurt had definitely heard. A spark that was more of a lightning bolt shot through him as the syllables fell into line and Kurt only finds the strength to open his eyes when Sam laughs. His expression is deceptively calm even if his eyes are a bit wide. It's because he's frozen. He wants to... bask in this moment, let the fanfare chorus ring in his ears, let his dizziness swell and the camera of his mind's eye spin around them triumphantly, but the suspense is probably not very kind and he really ought to say something to Sam in return to take the nerves out of the expression across from him. He breaks the silent pause, the long stare, with a sudden breath out he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He sounds... amazed. Filled with shock, wonder, hope.

"... I love you too."

Sam exhales slowly. It suddenly feels like the world is spinning backwards, like when Superman saved Lois Lane, and Sam really hopes it's not because he really doesn't wanna go back in time. He never wants to lose this moment or forget it. Luckily, his heart does some double time to catch up. That look in Kurt's eyes would've said it all even if Kurt hadn't. He's glad Kurt had said it anyway. He smiles softly and rests his forehead to Kurt's, just briefly, before pressing their lips together, buzzing but not wanting to move and shatter the mood. Inside, he's doing some ridiculous sort of a jig even if on the outside he's sort of in slow motion.

Kurt on the other hand, gets a wild grin on his lips that won't quit, not even when Sam kisses him. He giggles much too loud and disrupts it further, nuzzling at Sam's cheek when their mouths part. "I do, I really do."

That giggle breaks the spell that had kept Sam calm and he smiles so hard it hurts his cheeks. "Me too, Kurt. I - I've been wanting to say it. Was waiting for a good time when I could do something really lame and romantic and ex-extravagant and then it sort of just... came out, so." He stumbles over the longer word, giddiness making him stutter.

Kurt lays both of his palms flat on Sam's chest, tone mischievous again. "This is _exactly_ as lame and romantic as a boy could wish for."

Sam laughs, and he's sure even with how light that touch is, Kurt can feel his heart going crazy. "Good. Really didn't wanna screw that up."

That steady thud beneath his hands reminds Kurt once again of the effect that he can have on Sam. It's... insane. He hadn't ever imagined that he could be so important to someone. That he could make someone else feel that rush, with hardly any effort at all. Kurt looks at Sam with stunned amazement again, smiling and then gazing in turns, caught between wanting to proclaim everlasting devotion (possibly a bit much) and relapsing into sarcasm and teasing. His words are quiet and interspersed with little chuckles and amused hums.

"I don't... ha, how do you screw up saying you love someone? I mean, maybe if you accidentally say... I can't stand you instead, that would probably count."

Laughing again, a soft exhale more than anything else, Sam nods his agreement. "Yeah, that'd be pretty bad. I'm a crappy speller but I don't think I could mess up that bad. You might get a lot of L-V-O-E on your Valentine's card."

He's rambling. It's not like Sam to ramble. Make stupid jokes and do lame impressions but not ramble. He smiles sheepishly. "Anyway, I just... I know stuff like that is really important to you so I wanted to make it perfect. In those movies you make me watch it's always... in the rain or the top of the Eiffel tower or whatever."

"We'll have time for the Eiffel tower." Kurt leans more firmly against Sam's chest, giving him a confident smile. "This is the perfect start."

That smile is more than enough to assure Sam. He returns it and brings one of his hands up to cover Kurt's. He shuts his eyes again and breathes in, nose nudging against Kurt's cheek. The smell of a fall afternoon will always smell like Kurt from now on. 

"You're perfect."

Kurt's biggest secret, the one that Sam has already been introduced to, is that he's never been able to believe that, no matter how he might act. He looks away into the sky and fidgets, trying not to say anything to ruin the moment but the words come out regardless, tense and uneven.

"... Patti Lupone is perfect. Idina Menzel is perfect. _Alexander McQueen_ is perfect."

"Dude, I know you've told me like a million times, but I only know who like... one of those people are. And I still know I don't wanna be here like this with any of them."

Sam lets go of Kurt's hand and touches his cheek gently, pushing a stray piece of hair from his face that he honestly feels honored to get to see. Who else sees Kurt Hummel with a hair out of place?

"Kurt Hummel's perfect. _Tiyo._ "

It will take more than one afternoon to convince Kurt of that, but he still looks grateful, and he closes his eyes again with a smile, wriggling as close as he can along the grass.

"... Say it again. Not the perfect part, the other one."

No complaints about that request. He leans in, lifting his chin just a little to whisper it into Kurt's ear.

"I love you."

Kurt tangibly shivers and then lets out a quiet breath, eyebrows arching up. "... Well. That's never going to get old."

Sam grins softly, playing idly with Kurt's hair as he rests back down in front of him. "Know what you mean."

Kurt smiles, echoing those words back to Sam, trying them out with different inflections, making Sam laugh and nuzzle closer. Burt happens to walk through the kitchen just then to deposit his plate _properly_ , which means in the sink, thanks to his son's fussy homemaking skills. He looks into the backyard without intending to, eye drawn to the movement, and sees Sam and his son lying in the grass together. They're pretty... close, which he considers having a problem with. Boys will be boys, but they sure as hell better not be boys with his son. Not yet. Still, the minimal hand and face touching seems... pretty innocent. And Kurt is smiling. His son is smiling, like Burt hasn't seen him smile in a long time. It touches him unexpectedly deep and Burt leans on his arms as he pops a Kurt-like half smile of his own, a bit of pain in the backs of his eyes. Somebody's making his boy happy, and it both shows how much he's growing up and how, some day, there'll have to be somebody else getting Kurt's back other than good old dad. Sam... well, Sam could be that somebody, who knows. He seems to be doing a good job of it so far. Burt wipes his hands on his pants as he pulls back from the counter, deciding to let them be for now. Let Kurt keep smiling like that a little longer.


	9. Chapter 9

So Sam's pretty excited, actually. He doesn't get to see Blaine nearly enough anymore, and they'd totally been bros back at Dalton. But Blaine's busy a lot with the Warblers and he does fencing and piano and stuff too, and Sam's been all caught up with glee and Kurt and football, so they've pretty much just been texting through Buckeyes games and grabbing a coffee like once a month. Anyway, he's super excited to introduce him to Kurt. He loves being able to be like, 'this is Kurt, my boyfriend.' And he knows Blaine will be happy for him. There'd been like five seconds at the beginning of their friendship, when Sam had just moved from Nashville and Blaine was his first friend, where they did the obligatory, 'We both like dudes so maybe,' thing. But that thing was over before it could turn into more than a thought. They were just too... Sam and Blaine. Bros from different hos, like Puck would say. Nope, the 'Blam' thing was never gonna happen, much to Jeff and Nick's dismay.

Sam squeezes Kurt's hand on the way into Breadstix, then nods his head in the direction of Blaine's table when he spots the back of his familiarly gelled head.

"Hey, Blaine!"

Blaine looks up from his menu, standing up and grinning as Sam and Kurt make their way over. Sam reaches out and gives Blaine a warm bro-hug, thump on the back and all.

"Good to see you man. Do you ever take this thing off?" He tugs on Blaine's Dalton tie, smirking.

"Hey, I just came from practice. You know, that thing the Warblers do a lot of so it's easier to kick your butts at sectionals?" Blaine laughs and swats Sam's shoulder, then turns to Kurt and holds out a hand. "You must be Kurt. I'm Blaine, it's great to meet you."

Alright, so Blaine is _very_ attractive and Kurt is admittedly sort of... shocked? Sam said nothing had happened, and as his eyebrows lift and he holds his hand out to take Blaine's, he can't help but feel a dip in his self-esteem as he wonders, _so... why not? What does he offer that's so great?_ Still, he can't let that barb slide. His tone is definitely friendly and teasing as he and Blaine shake.

"Kurt. I'd say the same, but I don't need bold primary colors and constant practices to know that McKinley's butt is unkickable."

Blaine's eyebrows go up and he laughs as he lowers Kurt's hand, looking over at Sam. "Whoa, look at that, got yourself a sharp one, Sammy." 

Blaine turns back to Kurt and leans in, somewhat conspiratorially. "You're exactly his type. He always goes for pretty and sassy."

Sam snorts, but it's not exactly something he can deny. He's not about to say Kurt isn't pretty and sassy, or that the girlfriends he's had or the boys he's liked haven't fallen into that description. It's just that well... Kurt's better than all of them. And... wait, should Blaine really be calling his boyfriend pretty?

"Yup, he's a keeper." Sam winds his arm around Kurt's shoulders for a brief squeeze and then nudges him toward the booth, breaking Kurt's blank stare.

_That. Wow. Pretty._ The faint pink on his cheeks doesn't reflect at all on the person speaking, it's just that... he isn't called that very often. Kurt chuckles a little bit nervously and adjusts his satchel as he slides into the booth. Sam notices a telltale coloration on Kurt's cheeks as they scoot and he has no way of knowing the blush is because of the compliment and not the person saying it, so... that's a kind of uncomfortable second of telling himself not to act like an overly possessive loser. Still, if he sits a little closer to Kurt... hey, it's probably just a coincidence.

Kurt looks briefly at Sam once his nerves pass, considering how to move this espionage forward. That's why he's here - for the New Directions. First they have to put Blaine at ease.

"So," he begins, folding his hands on the table. "Were you two on Dalton's football team together?"

Blaine shakes his head with a shrug, legs crossing. "No, I actually don't play. Just watch. And Sammy wasn't around long enough, sadly."

"Naw, I transferred in too late for tryouts, and ended up at McKinley this year anyway. "

Kurt touches at his hair, a sixth sense telling him that a piece is threatening to escape the hold of hairspray. It helps him in his effort to appear nonchalant. "No football, just... constant practice." He smiles, still trying to use that friendly teasing to learn more. _God, please say the Warblers aren't some glee club boot camp_. "Next you'll tell me that you don't own a color TV, or you've never picked up a magazine."

Blaine scoffs, leaning forward. "Are you kidding me? I have every season of Project Runway on DVD and like three years worth of Vogue stacked under my bed."

Penny dropped. Kurt's eyes fly open and he bursts into a smile as he leans toward Blaine, abruptly forgetting about spying and glee and whatever it was he was heading their conversation toward. Someone wants to talk fashion. Priorities.

" _Oh_ my god, so then you know about the Lane Bryant styled travesty they were passing off as Burberry's fall collection."

"Oh my god what was that?!" Blaine laughs, eyes bright as he waves a breadstick around for emphasis. "I was afraid I was the only one who thought that! But wait, how amazing did Sarah Jessica look on the May cover?" He holds up his other hand, chin jerking backward. 

Kurt rolls his eyes and sighs wistfully. "God, don't you even talk to me about that bitch and her perfect hair."

The sigh peters off into a giggle and then he reaches out to tap the table in front of Blaine with his manicured nails. He's practically bouncing in his seat, though he doesn't mean to. _Nobody_ reads Vogue. Not even Mercedes or Rachel, it's always been his weird little vice. Someone to _talk_ to about this, he's about to burst.

"Thoughts! Thoughts. Porcelain bowties."

"Listen, I would wear a bowtie if it were made out of crepe paper. I have never met a bowtie I didn't like. So porcelain is like... I almost don't feel worthy of wearing one, it's like bowtie royalty."

"Favorite cover? No wait, we'll both say it on three - one, two..."

Kurt is starting to look like a child dizzy on lemonade at this point. Both of his hands lift off the table and flail in the air.

"Marion Cotillard!"

Blaine laughs as he shouts it at the same time. "She's _flawless_ , right?!"

Sam, meanwhile, sits back and watches the exchange quietly. His shoulder and leg brush against Kurt's when he moves but he suddenly feels... like, galaxies away from him. He bites his lip. Do Kurt's eyes light up like that when he talks to him? Sam always thought so but what if he was wrong? He and Kurt never get to talk about stuff like this. He has no idea who Marion Cotillard is or why you'd ever want a bowtie made of glass.

Kurt giggles and then breathes a wistful sigh, shaking his head at the table.

"If only I had her bone structure, I could take over the _world_."

"I like your bone structure." Sam takes the opportunity to add to the conversation, because one thing he is able to talk about is Kurt's face.

Kurt smiles at Sam and pats his hand, making sure to show that he appreciates the admiration. "I'm no Steve Buscemi, praise my genes, but I'm also no glamorous, award-winning French woman who can pull off Dior in an everyday look."

Sam smiles back, turning his hand to squeeze Kurt's, feeling a little more at ease. Then Blaine says, "I don't know, Kurt, I think you actually have really similar features to her. In the nose and chin. You could totally be related."

Kurt's eyes open as wide as possible and he laughs, sort of chirping, much too high pitched due to being awkward when told he looks like a gorgeous film star. He continues nervously giggling as he lifts his glass to sip from his straw, eyes drifting self-consciously away from the table. He has absolutely no idea what an appropriate response to that would be.

_Whatever_ , Sam thinks, even as he feels himself sinking into the booth. _Doesn't mean anything_. Sam gets Kurt to giggle like that all the time. It's not like he ever thought he was the only one who could get him to giggle like that. Right? Just... change the subject.

"So, Blaine - what makes you so sure you can beat us? You've never seen the New Directions perform, and from what I remember of the Warblers we have nothing to worry about." Sam stretches his lips, forcing them to form a teasing grin.

Blaine lights up, straightening in his seat and tilting his head. "Actually, Sam, I'm glad you asked. I thought you might miss some of the other guys, so I asked them to stop by and help me give you a sneak peek."

Kurt looks at Sam with surprised pleasure, still playing with his straw. This is perfect, he'd spent hours trying to figure out how they could spy on a practice. Apparently, completely unnecessary! "Dinner and a show, you Dalton boys really do pull out all the stops."

Sam snorts, shaking his head as Blaine slides out of his seat and jogs away. A second later, like they'd somehow heard their cue, a line of impeccably uniformed boys winds through the restaurant and up to the small stage at the front. A few of them shoot grins at Sam and wave. He lifts a hand to wave back, though his heart's not really in it. Blaine hops up from his seat and joins them - front and center, of course.

"Evening, everyone. I hope you're enjoying your meals. We won't take too much of your time. We're the Warblers, the glee club from Dalton Academy. We have a really big competition coming up soon and we were hoping we could practice in front of a crowd, if that's all right with you?"

Perfectly dapper and charming, of course. Isn't he always? The restaurant patrons eat it up, clapping.

"Thanks! So, without further ado, here's one of our favorite numbers."

And with that, they bust into ["Teenage Dream"](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yr1p7BvCQ0U) in eight part harmony, complete with beatboxing, Blaine on the lead.

From the moment Blaine opens his mouth, Kurt's eyebrows are near his hairline. This boy... can sing. This boy has stage presence beaming like a beacon from his crooked smile. This boy can dance, as he finds out when the Warblers begin to sway, and he can move the crowd, who are instantly twisted around his little finger, and this boy has a charming sparkle in his eyes that... seems to have a habit of attaching itself to whoever Blaine seems to be looking at at any given moment. Kurt knows better than to attribute that sparkle to himself - it's a stage trick. Make everyone think that you're singing to them.

Except... he keeps looking over at their table. And then Blaine points, directly at Kurt who was moving his shoulders slightly to the music, grinning ear to ear, and Kurt gets a sort of stunned half smile on his face as he watches those hands then touch Blaine's chest. It has absolutely nothing to do with... anything, it's just more interaction with the audience, and the heat under his cheeks is just embarrassment that suddenly eyes in the audience are moving toward him. Still, this boy. This boy is maddeningly good at what he does. Kurt is worried for his club, and yet he can't stop watching, and even finds himself grinning instinctively when Blaine yells over the Warblers chanting the chorus. Even if Blaine is still looking at him. Quite a lot.

Sam's chest, meanwhile, gets tighter and tighter, crushing his heart and his lungs and making his vision blur. _This is not okay. This is like, totally not okay at all. Yeah, Blaine always acts like this, especially when he's performing, but are we kidding with this? Is he actually pointing at Kurt? Is he... winking at him? Okay, hold up, Blaine Anderson did not just point and **wink** at Sam's boyfriend while singing about **tight jeans.**_

Sam looks over at Kurt sharply, and the look on Kurt's face is Sam's worst nightmare come true. Because Kurt has that look on his face... and he's not looking at Sam. Sam clenches the knees of his jeans, reminds himself that this is his boyfriend, who he loves and who loves him, and that guy singing up there is Blaine. One of his best friends. The guy who helped him through after he'd moved from so far away, helped him feel welcome and settled in Ohio. He's not out to steal Kurt and Kurt doesn't want to be stolen.

It's just that stupid boyband heartthrob smile of his. Stupid charming dance moves and sweet voice and knowledge of people on magazine covers. Big deal. Sam has just as much charm and charisma as Blaine, and just as awesome a voice. And maybe he's not so slick a dancer but he can make up for it with his boyish charm, right?

Sitting back against the booth, Sam lifts an arm around Kurt's shoulders and tugs him closer. He needs to come up with a plan, quick. Not to mention, he needs to have a talk with Warbler Blaine like, soon.

Kurt blinks as Sam's arm shocks him out of his embarrassed, gaping state and he looks up at him with a shocked little smile. Oh, right, people are applauding. He should applaud - they're Sam's friends, after all, it's only polite. Kurt sits up in the crook of Sam's shoulder and claps along with the rest of the patrons dutifully.

They don't stay long after that. Sam seems uncomfortable, and Kurt can't seem to look at Blaine without his face contorting a little bit. So Sam says hi to a few of his Warbler friends, they both congratulate Blaine, and then they walk out to Kurt's car. Kurt pulls out his keys and he looks over at Sam, still smiling but starting to get a little worried about Sam's silence. He breaks it purposefully, his voice seeming loud in the quiet parking lot.

"So! I hate to say it, but they're amazing."

"Hmm?" 

Sam looks over at him, blinking. He hadn't exactly had his mind on the here and now. It keeps wandering, even worse than usual, thinking back on Kurt's face while Blaine performed, and his bright excited laughter when he and Blaine agreed on something - which was every time either of them said anything all night - and what he's going to have to do to make sure Kurt stays with him.

"Oh, yeah. Told you they were good." Sam tries a smile.

"And Blaine." Kurt half rolls his eyes, encouraged by that smile enough to try a joke. "If you ever wonder what the term 'alpha gay' refers to, that was it."

Unable to do much else, Sam lets out a small 'heh' in agreement. "Yeah, he's - he's Blaine. I told you you'd like him."

Kurt opens the car doors and climbs up and into his truck, still trying to figure out how to draw Sam out. "I didn't think it was possible to meet someone who loved a bowtie more than me." Kurt looks at Sam and chuckles softly, hoping for a response.

Sam gets into the passenger side, still pretty much looking down at his feet. _What the hell, Evans? You've never been the jealous type before._

"Yeah, he's kinda obsessed. He showed me his bowtie drawer once. Like he actually has a whole drawer of them at Dalton and he can only wear them on weekends." 

"He has a _bowtie_ -" Kurt shakes his head and lifts a hand off the wheel, scoffing with another little laugh. "Not envious! Not envious." 

_Right. Not envious. No envy to see here. Come on, Sam. Kurt's your boyfriend. You know how to do this. Be his boyfriend._

"Your bowties are cooler."

Kurt looks at Sam again, that touched glow in his eyes before it twists into a smirk. "They will be. Once I buy like ten of those ceramic and porcelain ones off of Ebay."

That actually does get a laugh out of Sam, a real one. The look Kurt's giving him helps, and, hey, it's a whole two sentences where Blaine doesn't come up.

"Should I put some on your Christmas list or will you be onto the next big thing by then?"

"Always pushing the fashion boundaries, that's me." Kurt turns the keys to start the car, smiling at Sam again.

That smile. Sam has no choice but to smile back. He reaches for Kurt's hand and holds it loosely between them as Kurt drives. He's not totally 100% feeling better about this whole thing, but he has a plan now. He totally knows how to win Kurt back. Or, make sure he doesn't actually have to ever win him back. Or whatever.

\--

He practices practically all night and the next day. Then it turns out Monday is the perfect opportunity, because Schue announces that the group needs to find a ballad, and they should all come to practice sometime this week prepared to perform their ideas. Sam jumps up from his seat beside Kurt.

"Um, actually Mr. Schue? I sort of have something I've been working on that I think could blow away the competition at sectionals."

Kurt is understandably shocked when Sam interrupts glee club. He hadn't mentioned anything about a performance, let alone a ballad. Schue raises his eyebrows. "Really, Sam? That's great, why don't you show us what you've got?"

Kurt's eyes are wide as he watches Sam and he tries to mouth a question at him as he retrieves a purple (purple?!) hoodie from his bag, but his boyfriend is busy. Does this have something to do with the new hairstyle Kurt had commented on that morning? The swoop was adorable, if a little reminiscent of-

_Oh. Oh my god, he isn't._

"What will you be doing for us?" Schue asks before Sam can cue the band to start.

"Well, you said a ballad, right? Something high energy and epic. Who's more epic than Justin Bieber?"

"Truth!" Artie raises a hand in agreement. Sam grins, turning around and pulling his hood up as the [music](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=94tNGg1GMas) starts. _Here we go. Time to show Kurt that Blaine Anderson isn't the only one who can make a crowd swoon._

" _Oh... oh, whoa.... oh, whoa... oh, whoa!_ "

No, no, no, the hair and the hoodie and Kurt is ready to sink into his seat until Sam turns, hood still up, and points at Kurt as the music kicks in, soft at first.

" _I know you love me, I know you care. Just shout whenever, and I'll be there. You are my love, you are my heart, and we will never, ever, ever be apart._ "

Sam starts to sing. And Kurt feels that warm wave flood his chest and he wonders right then if this, this is what all of the fuss is about. He tries to laugh a little bit, but his burning cheeks and the curious look in his eyes when he casts them sidelong at Sam in that hoodie shows how very, very appreciative he is unexpectedly turning out to be. His fingers creep up over his lips to try to hide the preteen-giddy smile that is threatening to take over them.

Sam is pretty sure he can hear a few sighs and murmurs of approval throughout the room, but he's not so much focused on that. The only important thing is that Kurt's smiling and trying to hide what he's pretty sure is a blush. That's totally a better smile than Blaine had gotten out of him, right? The beat hits and the glee kids whoop as Sam does a fast half turn and slides over a chair, turning it and pushing it under him, legs on either side of the back. 

" _Are we an item? Boy, quit playin'. We're just friends, what are you saying?_ "

Grinning, he leans forward in the chair, tipping it onto two of its legs as he reaches for Kurt's hand. He manages to tug him close without toppling over, keeping his eyes locked on Kurt's, watching his breath catch and his lips part close to Sam's.

" _Say there's another and look right in my eyes._ "

He leans back again but still holds Kurt's hand. " _My first love broke my heart for the first time, and I was like baby, baby, baby, oh!_ "

Now to get his groove on. Sam jumps up and pushes the chair away, dancing to the chorus in a move he thinks looks like a pretty slick version of a skier's jump.

" _Baby, baby, baby, no! Like, baby, baby, baby, oh! Thought you'd always be mine._ "

He stops the step to reach out toward Kurt and pull his hand back into his chest like his heart hurts. Which isn't entirely untrue. And that's what makes Kurt start to think.

There's something new and different in Sam's eyes. Confident. Almost cocky, but still sweetly, boyishly hopeful, maybe even wounded. And the dance moves (which Kurt has no idea how Sam perfected so quickly) are a blend of casual and polished that's every heartthrob's signature. It makes Kurt's heartbeat pick up, it makes his skin warm and his smile shy and coy, and everyone is staring at him, for the second time in so many-

_Second time_. It clicks for Kurt as he watches Sam touch his heart. It can't be a coincidence. This is about Blaine, on some level, and that silence had been about jealousy. It's an odd feeling. He's... flattered, in a way. Sam's protectiveness could manifest in worse ways than a dreamy glee club performance. And his boyfriend is making girls whoop while staring straight at him, fighting for him. Even if he doesn't need to fight, it's endearing that he would. Kurt smiles back at Sam and bites his bottom lip as he watches him dance, embarrassed by the intensity of his own attraction.

" _Oh, oh, for you, I would have done whatever, and I just can't believe we ain't together. And I wanna play it cool, but I'm losin' you. I'll buy you anything, I'll buy you any ring..._ "

Sam does a sort of hop-scotch jump, mostly inspired by his little sister playing on the sidewalk, before he sidesteps to the piano and pushes himself up to sit on it. He glides along the surface and jumps down the other side, twirling when he lands on his feet. He slides to the center of the room again, eyes back on Kurt as he flips his hair and gestures toward him, savoring the wide-eyed smirk on his boyfriend's face.

" _Cause I'm in pieces. Baby, fix me. And just shake me till you wake me from this bad dream._ "

He grabs the front of his hoodie in both hands and tugs to each side as he bends his knees and kinda... zig-zag-squats to the floor, syncing the movements with each 'down.'

" _I'm goin' down, down, down, down. And I just can't believe my first love won't be around!_ "

The whoops and cheers and claps are louder now and Kurt's eyes have flown even wider. Whatever the cause of this outburst, Sam has exploded and everyone is really seeing him as talented, as a force to be reckoned with. Even Mike looks impressed at that isolation.

Kurt is just impressed in general. And... attracted. Not Rocky Horror outburst levels of 'attracted', but it's certainly gotten hard to breathe and his legs are crossed very tightly. When Sam goes back into the chorus, the dance moves become even more impressive. Kurt actually has to look away for a moment with a vibrant blush and a little cough of a gasp as Sam pops his chest forward and his shirt rides up to show a hip. This is new. This is definitely nothing like watching Blaine perform. This is...

Oh good lord, this is him being turned on by a Justin Bieber song.

At this point, Sam is as close to forgetting about the whole Blaine thing as he's going to get. He's soaking up the attention, and having fun. And the best part of the whole thing is the way Kurt is staring and the way his cheeks are pink and his eyes are all sparkly. Sam shoots a wink at him as he starts on the final chorus and the 'I'm gone's, and yeah, he totally ducks his head toward the girls and lets them rub his hair. Look Kurt, his hair actually moves and you can touch it and stuff, not like you could if it was all helmeted up with gel. He feels like Elvis or something. Or, well... the Beebs.

" _I'm gone. Now, I'm all gone. I'm gone... I'm gone._ "

He goes back to the center of the floor, pulls his hood back over his now messy hair, and crosses his arms as the last note fades.

_Take that, Anderson._

The applause explodes and girls are fanning themselves and Kurt is warm under his collar and... well, everywhere. He's looking at Sam differently than he ever has before. He loves Sam. He's attracted to Sam. He's impressed by and affectionate to Sam. But he's never _wanted_ Sam in exactly this way. It won't lead to anything more than an intense makeout session (and ASAP), because he meant what he said about waiting, but it's still an intense revelation. Blaine does not even enter Kurt's mind just then. He's too busy trying not to blatantly stare at Sam's ass as people clap him on the shoulder, laughing.

Mr. Schue applauds along with the rest of them. "Sam has definitely gotten us off on the right foot! I'll expect to see more ballads next time, keep the energy high!" The bell rings and people start to file past them and Kurt stares at Sam still, his breathing heavy and nervous and his lips quirked in what almost looks like a come hither smile.

Sam grins at all the compliments and thanks Mr. Schue, taking the hood back down and rolling up his sleeves as the room empties. He looks up at Kurt and feels his eyes go just a little wider, breath catching while he's already panting from the number. Has Kurt looked at him like this before? 

"So... whadya think? "

As the last body leaves and Mr. Schue's office door closes, Kurt finally has enough control over his limbs to stand up and walk toward Sam. When he gets there, his eyes are on his shoes at first, but then lift as he slides one of his palms up Sam from lower ribs to chest. Sam's breath falters as his eyes follow Kurt's hand up, and then meet Kurt's. The stare finally breaks when Kurt leans forward and kisses Sam on the cheek, gently because he doesn't trust himself to do any more at the moment. He whispers, still close.

"I think... that you are the hottest thing I have ever seen, and that includes wet DiCaprio."

Sam flutters his eyes closed at the kiss, and suddenly it's like he can't breathe at all, even when he whispers back. "You don't... really think that."

"Oh, I absolutely do." Kurt pulls back again with sincerity written in his eyes, finally starting to be able to tease again. "And, because you were evidently wondering?" Kurt taps a finger on Sam's chest. "Much, much hotter than a certain Warbler."

Sam blinks his eyes open wide, gaping, mouth hanging open dumbly as he searches for words to dispute what Kurt's saying. "I-I didn't-"

He could explain. They could have a long, serious conversation that would still only reach about half of what he'd like to say, because words are words and therefore inadequate. Kurt really doesn't want to to do that. This was nice and he'd rather not ruin it, so he'll just let it go for now and stop his boyfriend's stammering with a hand on his cheek and a firm kiss to his lips that hopefully holds some of his meaning. 

If Sam was thinking of asking Kurt to clarify what he'd said about a Warbler, the thought flies out of his head the second Kurt kisses him. For the third time in two minutes, Kurt takes his breath away. 

When Kurt pulls back, he reaches up to smooth the swoop in Sam's hair. His tone tries for coy. "...Bring the hoodie to the auditorium during study hall?"

Sam leans into the touch to his hair, smiling as he softly laughs out, "Why?"

Kurt almost snorts, then grasps one of its strings between two fingers and sways his shoulders innocently, even briefly batting his eyelashes. "Do you really have to ask?"

As Sam catches his drift, he smiles slowly, then leans back a little and unzips the sweatshirt.

"Here. You take it till then." He tugs it off and settles it over Kurt's shoulders. It's totally lame, stupid and possessive and cliche, and right now Sam doesn't give a crap. Kurt is _his_ and anyone who recognizes the ridiculous purple hoodie for the next few hours will know it.

Kurt looks down at himself curiously, sparing only a second to thank heavens he'd worn black, white and gray today instead of something hideous like burgundy or green. He's wearing neon cotton. He really does love this boy. He adjusts it on his shoulders as he steps back and looks back up at Sam, doing a little twirl while holding it closed.

"How do I look?"

Sam watches him, eyes soft. Kurt would never, ever wear this sweatshirt on his own. It's bright and bulky, and cost $10.99 at Target. The sleeves dangle at his sides, three times the size of Kurt's arms. And Sam gives the only answer he can.

"Perfect."


	10. Chapter 10

Sam's not... mad, exactly. He doesn't get mad that easily. Defensive, irritated, ready to blow off steam - usually with a punching bag or whatever - not usually angry, not until he knows he has to be. Until someone's done something directly to provoke him and he's not left with any choice. So he's not really angry, when he texts Blaine a short: _hey can we tlak? lima bean 430._

Blaine is always exactly on time and not a second earlier or later. Sam is five minutes later. He spots Blaine sitting at a table to the side, already clutching his coffee. He lifts a hand and waves at Sam with a more uncertain smile than he usually wears. Sam just kinda nods in reply, hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie. He'd retouched up his Bieber-do after study hall. Kurt had kinda... messed it up. Yeah. But for some reason, he wants it intact when he talks to Blaine.

He slides into the seat across from the Warbler. Blaine lifts his eyebrows. "Uh, Sam? I'm sorry, but first things first. What the hell are you wearing? You look like Tinky Winky."

Normally, Sam would have laughed at that. He doesn't. "Dude. You're one of my best friends. But the other night? Not cool."

That wipes the little smile off Blaine's face, and his eyebrows go down instead of up. "What? What happened the other night?"

Sam snorts. "Oh come on, don't play dumb with me, man, you know what I'm talking about."

"I... met Kurt? We had a nice dinner?"

Okay, now Sam's starting to feel a little more annoyance spiking up. "Dude! You sang to Kurt! You sang a sexy song to my _boyfriend_. You pointed at him, Blaine. You did that eye thing!"

Blaine's quiet. Sam has to admit, he can tell Blaine's actually thinking about what he's saying now and to be honest... he still looks genuinely confused. "Uh. Eye thing?"

"You know what eye thing I mean!" Sam sighs, glancing away and shaking his head. "That 'I want to screw you but I can't because I'm singing so how about later babe' eye thing! You do it to like everyone in the audience every time you sing but this time you were doing it specifically to my boyfriend and come on, that's like... in strict violation of every law in the bro code ever!"

At this point, Blaine is gaping. He makes a small noise that's sort of like a shocked cough as he leans back in his seat. Then he leans forward again, shuts his mouth, and shakes his head. "Sam, I promise you... you have this so completely wrong. I would never - you really think I would do that? To you, or... to anyone?"

Sam glances away, biting his lip. Because, okay, yeah. Blaine is a good guy. But still, when he thinks about the way he was looking at Kurt... 'get your heart racing in my skintight jeans'... he can't help it. That bubble flares up in his chest like he's some kind of super villain.

"You were looking at him," he points out again. "You were _pointing_ at him."

Blaine shakes his head. "I was performing. You said it yourself, Sammy, I do that. I don't even realize it. I mean - yes, Kurt's totally cute and yes, I was trying to be friendly. But I didn't mean... man, I wasn't trying to flirt with him. I'm sorry if it looked like that."

Sam kind of deflates, after that. He feels it. His shoulders slump, and he frowns instead of the tight-lipped determination he'd been trying to hold onto. When he looks up at Blaine again, all he sees is his friend, a good friend, who can probably be one of the biggest assholes Sam knows but pretty much always unintentionally, and right now he kind of just looks like a kicked puppy. Which, coincidentally, is what Sam feels like. "You talked about Vogue and stuff. I've never owned a bowtie in my life. I probably couldn't even tie a bowtie."

At that, Blaine actually smiles, faintly teasing. "Sam... Mr. Samwise. Really? You think Kurt would dump you because you're not into high fashion? Come on now, I think he probably knew that the second he met you." He winks, and Sam has to laugh.

"Touche, Frodo."

Blaine snorts and shakes his head, taking a sip of coffee. Sam thinks he's probably been twitching to do that this whole time, props to him for restraining. "Anyway, it was pretty obvious to me that Kurt is totally enamored with you. He wouldn't stop looking at you the whole night."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Even though you can be a total dummy sometimes."

Sam takes a second to smile about that, before he retorts, "Dummy? Seriously? Dude the fifties ended like sixty years ago."

"And the nineties ended thirteen years ago, which brings me back to my original question... what in god's name are you wearing?" 

~

In Sam's pocket, his phone lights up silently with text after text:

_WHY DID BRITT JUST TEXT ME TO BE A LEADER NOT A CHEATER_

_Are you serious?! Blaine?!!!! Still?!?!?!_

_You need to come over RIGHT NOW._

Sam doesn't remember that his phone's still on silent from school until he's back in his car after his talk with Blaine. He feels better now, mostly. Much better. But there's still that nagging feeling. For the first time, he's realized exactly how different he and Kurt really are, and how much more Kurt could have in common with anyone else. And it's a scary thought. Really scary. Almost as scary as those texts when he looks through his history and his palms suddenly start guilty-sweating.

_waht?? ok im coming b rite there!_

Kurt, meanwhile, is pacing in his room and texting to Brittany furiously, trying to do damage control before the entire school hears about this, and fuming so hard he feels like cartoon steam is about to pour from his ears. He leaves his dad to answer the door, refusing to tell him what's wrong and just flinging himself dramatically up the stairs in response. So Burt answers the door for Sam, looking at him skeptically. 

"Do I wanna know what you did?"

Sam starts on the doorstep. He wasn't expecting that. And even after almost two months and a lot of football talk, Burt Hummel can still scare the piss out of him.

"No, sir! I mean - I didn't do anything, sir. I mean..." He pauses, biting his lip. "I'm gonna fix it, Mr. Hummel. Sir."

Burt nods, still looking kind of confused and as if he's unsure at what point to start threatening, but then he steps aside and waves up the stairs.

"Go on up to the war room, then. I'm sure he's waiting."

Sam nods and starts to head up the stairs. He tries to smile. "If I'm not back in an hour, send help?"

He jogs the rest of the way up as Burt snorts. For a second, he lingers outside the door to Kurt's bedroom, but he knows he's only putting off the inevitable. He calls tentatively through the wood. 

"Kurt?"

"Get your butt in here."

Kurt has stopped pacing and is instead sitting on the edge of his bed, still texting. He looks up when Sam enters, giving him his best 'what in the holy shitting heavens of high fashion' look.

"Having _sex_ with me with his _eyes_. Are you... are you kidding me?!" He lifts his eyes to the ceiling and his hands flail furiously against the air by his shoulders before he can look at Sam again.

Sam hangs his head, shrugging and practically digging his toe into the carpet. His voice barely lifts above a mutter.

"... He was pointing." 

Kurt snaps the words back through the air like a whip. "And I _clearly_ am powerless to resist a _pointing finger._ "

He sighs and finally tosses his phone at his pillow, crossing his arms over his chest, still obviously holding court in this conversation. "Sit."

Sam stands quietly for a beat, then goes to do as Kurt asked and sits beside him - not without some amount if trepidation. He's witnessed Kurt's wrath but never been the target of it. He plays with the comforter under his fingers for a second before looking at Kurt, waiting.

For his part, Kurt is trying very hard not to explode. If he hadn't spent much of the last half an hour furiously texting a seemingly purposefully thick Brittany, he could probably actually be calm about this. He has to remind himself that she never has her facts entirely straight and that he'd found this jealousy cute just earlier today. So Kurt uses his eyes to look down at his lap even while his jaw refuses to unclench, and then he looks at Sam and speaks in a voice that's even, if a little bit sharp.

"At what point exactly did you stop trusting me?"

"Never!" Sam's eyes snap back up to Kurt's, wide and earnest. "I totally trust you, why would you think I don't?" 

"Scheduling a showdown with a boy who points at me doesn't exactly _scream_ security, sweetie."

Alright, so that was his sarcasm allotment. Kurt sighs and shakes his head, returning to the more calm tone of a moment ago. "Do you really think that I would want him, index fingers aside? I have _you_."

It's the first time Sam doesn't like the sound of Kurt calling him that. It's not nearly as nice when it's practically snapped. He looks up again to see Kurt's eyes a little less hard, just a little. And his question shoots a small wave of comfort through him. Still, he sighs softly.

"I dunno. He's... you're... the way you were with him, after like five seconds of knowing him. All that stuff you had in common. Me and you... I can't talk about all that stuff. I've never looked at a Vogue. I have no idea who Marion Cotillard is. I tried to look it up but I couldn't even spell her name."

Sam laughs and shakes his head. It's a pathetic sort of laugh, and it stabs at Kurt unexpectedly deep. If he'd ever wondered just how much he loves Sam, the pain that he feels when he watches Sam laugh like that answers for him. So much for anger. Kurt immediately slides toward him on the bed, takes one of Sam's hands and puts the other on his cheek. He picks through his words carefully, making sure Sam can see how much he means them, even smiling just enough that hopefully Sam will as well.

"Do you have any idea how... bored I would become with someone like that? I don't want to be with my bowtie-wearing clone, Sammy. I like that you have sports and cheesy movies and country music." Kurt shoots him a little smirk. "I even like your little protective streak. _Usually._ "

Kurt sighs and runs his thumb along Sam's skin, tilting his head and frowning with thought, realizing each word as he says them. "Blaine is... Blaine is what I know. Choosing him would be choosing... safe. I don't want safe."

Sam watches Kurt's face, the knot that's been in his stomach for days very slowly starting to ease up. He leans into the touch and squeezes his hand, mostly on instinct. It seems almost too good to be true.

But then, so does Kurt. He lets the assurance sink in and laughs softly.

"Okay. Yeah, I... yeah."

Reassured by that laugh, Kurt pulls back enough to roll his eyes. "I mean, I can't... talk football with my Dad and you, or with Finn. Do _you_ honestly wish that I was one of your sweaty, poorly dressed jock friends? No offense."

Sam laughs again, more warm and genuine this time. "No. Mostly cause you wouldn't be able to come to my games and wave at me from the stands during practice." He pauses and grins with a touch of wickedness in it. "I still think you should think about getting back on the Cheerios though."

Kurt lifts an eyebrow with dismissive amusement as his hand drops to cover the one he's holding. "Unfortunately all of your assuredly varied fantasies about cheerleading uniforms are not worth Sue's five calorie a day diet."

Sam scrunches his nose a little. "Yeah, no, definitely not." There's a pause, and then he inches a little closer to Kurt, eyes suddenly a little worried and searching again. "I really do trust you, Kurt. I know you wouldn't cheat on me. I never thought you were."

"So it was a fit of craziness, not full on insanity, then." Kurt relents, smiles, and leans in toward Sam. "...I still did like your performance, whatever your motives were."

Sam smiles back, lifting his arm around Kurt in response to the invitation of that lean. "Thanks. Guess I just... wanted to prove I could be... you know. Hunky teenybopper dreamboat material."

Kurt sniffs out a laugh at the phrase, although his smile is starting to turn a little bit bashful as he remembers the effect Sam had on him. Even though it didn't verbally come up, he's semi-certain that some... sort of evidence of that was obvious during their makeout session.

"Ten out of ten."

The faint blush staining what Sam can see of Kurt's cheeks is enough of a reminder, and probably the last little bit of convincing Sam needs to shake off his lingering insecurities. Kurt had gotten kinda... heated, hadn't he? Sam grins and lifts his eyebrows.

"Oh yeah? That good?"

Sam is not helping matters. Kurt turns even more shy and red and has to lift his finger and point at that grinning face, trying not to smile back.

"Now, that's enough of that."

That only makes Sam's smile wider and his eyes brighter. He leans in closer, taking Kurt's wrist to lower his finger.

"Think there was something about... being hotter than Leo?"

" _Stop_ it." Kurt is almost giggling, just barely holding back, leaning away from Sam as if he wishes he could lean toward him instead.

"No way, dude," Sam breathes as he leans just an inch closer, still holding Kurt's wrist, so close he could eliminate all the distance and just kiss him. But that's not what he does.

He tackles him instead, pushing him back onto the mattress and falling gracelessly on top. He's laughing way too hard and the movement was way too clumsy to be particularly sexy and Kurt lets out a little high-pitched yelp as he falls which explodes into giggles. "Sam! My _hair_."

Sam keeps laughing, tucking his face against Kurt's neck and breathing him in between chuckles. He reaches up blindly for the hair Kurt is trying to complain about, and ends up kind of bopping him in the face en route which just makes him laugh harder and makes Kurt sputter, flailing his hands ineffectively in response. Sam lifts his head to actually look at what he's doing and runs his hand through Kurt's hair to smooth it back as Kurt's giggles return and then fade into a hum.

"So does this mean I can do the Beebs for sectionals," Sam asks with a teasing smile.

Kurt looks upward toward his wall as he wraps his arms around Sam's neck, pretending to think extremely hard.

" _That_ depends on whether I want to share your future performances with anyone else."

"Ooh, now who's being jealous?" Sam's lips spread into a grin as he leans down to rest his head against Kurt's.

Kurt smirks and does a bit of an eyeroll, speaking in a fast, teasing voice. "Hello, me, obviously, I have the hottest boyfriend in the entire school and if I had my way, you would live in my closet."

Sam laughs at that, shaking his head as he lifts it away from Kurt's, eyebrows lifted. "Okay first off, bull. Second, I'm not making a closet joke cause it's way too easy." 

"No, you're right." Kurt touches Sam's hair gently, and something rushes through him as he watches his own fingers move that makes his voice lower. "I like to show you off."

It's clearly more serious than silly, which makes Sam's cheeks warm and his insides twist. He leans down and kisses Kurt's cheek lightly, remembering his promise not to push things too far, especially since he's sort of... on top of Kurt in his bed. It takes willpower, but he rolls off him to settle on his side, removing the temptation and shifting the tone back toward something safer but still affectionate.

"Thanks for putting up with my crazy."

Kurt lifts up onto both of his elbows to look over at Sam, his legs crossed at the ankle. The removal to a safer distance was a nice gesture, although he's admittedly surprisingly comfortable with having Sam in his bed with him. That is... new. He's glad he straightens his sheets compulsively.

"You make it worthwhile." _And then, slightly less teasingly haughty, Hummel_. "And there are worse kinds of crazy than fighting-for-your-love crazy."

Sam rests his head in his hand, for a second just smiling at Kurt softly. It's seeing his own rumpled purple sleeve on the chair beside the bed that reminds him. He has something he wants to do.

"Oh - I. Here, hang on!"

He pushes himself over Kurt and off the bed, going to where he'd discarded his backpack by the door when he'd first come in. Kurt sits up the rest of the way to lean against the wall, watching Sam head to his backpack with curiosity. His red letterman jacket is stuffed inside it and he fishes it out. It's kind of in a ball. Oops. He climbs back onto the bed with it and sits, quiet for a second and trying to ramp himself up emotionally for what he's about to do. Then he smiles.

"I want you to wear this."

By the time Sam returns, Kurt's smile is already starting to show. He looks from the jacket to Sam and then back, reaching out to touch the letter with a delicate fingertip. It's emotional for Sam, he can tell, and it is for him as well. Imagining walking down that hallway wearing this... like armor. Sam with him, all of the time, no matter where he goes. Even if it would make him look like a gorilla, he finds he doesn't... mind. With so many emotions flying around, Kurt obviously has to try to diffuse the situation, at least enough so that he can breathe through this sudden thickness in his throat.

"Purple cotton wasn't enough for you?"

Sam's fingers curl a little around the jacket and he realizes he's holding his breath. This is a bigger deal than either of them are admitting to, and they can both tell that. He shrugs with an awkward twitch.

"It was great. It didn't make the statement I wanted it to make and fashion is all about making a statement right? That's what you always say."

Maybe he's pushing his luck, because he has no reason to expect epic poetry from Sam, but Kurt shifts closer, drops his eyes and then brings them back up, still touching the jacket. 

"And... what kind of statement would this be making?"

Sam bites his lip, trying to find the right words. What if he comes across as... insulting or something? Like Kurt thinks he's... babying him or. Coddling, that's the word! What if Kurt thinks he's doing that, instead of just trying to make sure Kurt can feel him there, all of the time, the way that he already feels Kurt all around him.

"Um... it would say... I have a badass football boyfriend so back off?"

Kurt chuckles almost silently and looks down to smooth his hand over the fabric one more time, starting to get that happy glow in his cheeks. It's definitely not poetry, but it's still touching. A very Sam kind of touching, the kind that makes him feel real and... normal when the rest of the world wants to treat him as a freak. 

"You're lucky that I can pull off red."

That, that warmth that Kurt can't hide with his smirk and sarcasm no matter how hard he tries. That's Sam's favorite expression to see on Kurt's face. His own smile turns quickly to a grin as he pushes the jacket into Kurt's arms and lets it go.

"Better see you in it tomorrow, Hummel."

Kurt chuckles again as he hugs the jacket into his arms. It smells like Sam, he thinks, feeling stupid and childish thinking it but pleased anyway. He strokes one of the sleeves with his thumb and feels guilty for ruining the moment, but still needing to say it.

"For every minute, except when we finally speak to David."

Sam nods after a second of appreciative staring. It's sort of a bummer to remember, but can't bring himself to feel too completely dragged down by it, especially not with the way Kurt is holding the jacket like he'd hold one of his Alex Queen scarves. Even his grin doesn't go away entirely.

"I'm still coming with, right? "

"You may come with." Kurt decides to put the jacket on now, sliding his arms through the sleeves as he thinks. "...Though I was wondering what you'd think of being out of sight, at least to begin with."

Sam's first instinct, while he tries not to get too distracted by Kurt trying the jacket on, is to think 'no way in hell,' because out of sight means leaving Kurt temporarily wide open for a beat down. But he also gets Kurt's unspoken point. Seeing the guy you're crushing on with his boyfriend probably wouldn't be the most calming thing.

"...How far out of sight are we talking?"

Kurt tugs the neck of the jacket tight against his hairline, feeling more than a little bit James Dean, and looks over at Sam as he calculates a plan that he never would have contemplated a few months ago. _Whatever happens tomorrow_ , he thinks, _is because of what Sam's given him. And that definitely isn't limited to outerwear._


	11. Chapter 11

It had taken some convincing to get Sam to be only semi-present during the first part of the confrontation they are finally having. But Kurt can't stop thinking of this as his problem now, considering what David did, and his responsibility to try to fix it with as few punches thrown as possible. He does love his darling boyfriend, but restraint is occasionally an issue for him. So Kurt slides a note into Karofsky's locker, hesitating just before his fingers release it but eventually working up the nerve, that says to meet him in the training room past the lockers midway through the afternoon. Sam is right through a side door, watching beside piles of equipment, and Kurt hopes that's where he stays. This can't go south again. If there's any more southward it can go.

Karofsky enters a couple minutes late, holding the note, which looks like it's been crumpled and smoothed out a couple of times already. Kurt's hands are behind his back and he specifically doesn't look at David at first because he doesn't want to be thrown off by the threats in his eyes.

"What the hell is this? Secret rendezvous?" 

Kurt takes a calming breath and looks up. "I thought that we should talk. About what happened."

He can see the discomfort in Karofsky immediately - his eyes shift back toward the door and his cheeks just barely change color, although if anything, he seems to puff up and clench his fists harder. He almost spits the words. "You mean when you... kissed me?"

He _really_ should have expected that, but he didn't. Kurt stares at Karofsky as some of the sympathy drains from his expression and his voice becomes more firm.

"... No, David. You kissed me. And... I know how difficult this must be for you, but I have Sam."

He also should have expected that to prompt a sidelong slam of Dave's fist into the lockers, but it still makes Kurt jump, especially when Karofsky then takes a step toward him.

"You keep talking and my _fist_ will kiss your _face._ "

From his hiding place, Sam can see the fist fly and he bites back a gasp, heart going wild enough to nauseate him because, for that split second, he really thinks Kurt's already had his face crushed in and Sam has totally completely failed him. In the second half of that second, he hears the metallic crash and understands what really happened. It's still enough to keep his heart racing and send his adrenaline pumping, fight or flight kicking in and he's definitely going with fight. But he holds himself still. He promised Kurt, he's not coming out until it's time or it's necessary. He tries to calm himself down and keeps watching.

Kurt forces himself to remain calm, to remember that Sam is nearby, and especially to remember the broken look in Karofsky's eyes after that kiss. Kurt takes a breath and tries to meet the angry glare with calm compassion.

"It's difficult, isn't it, David? Trying to pretend to be someone you're not. I'm sure you get tired of having to wear the mask. I've tried before too."

Karofsky snaps his fist up, and Sam flinches again - but it doesn't swing for Kurt. He just lifts his index finger and points it at him, and Sam thinks the nails of his other hand must be digging into his palm, the way he's clenching it.

"You... have _no idea_ what this is. Alright, homo? I'm not some - queer ass little pansy you can fix with a fairy dance number. And I am not. Gay."

It takes everything Kurt has to not stagger backward from Karofsky's sharp movement. He still flinches, but he returns to staring Karofsky down as resolutely as possible, even if he's now well within attacking range.

"If you can kiss me, then you can say it. Just tell one person. It will feel better when you do, I promise. Just say it out loud."

There's a long pause, Dave's breathing heavily enough that Sam can hear it.

"I am warning you, Hummel. I swear to god..."

"We've done this already, David. I'm not scared."

He's actually a bit petrified, but trying very hard not to show it. Karofsky has an obscure look in his eyes and Kurt wavers on whether this was really such a good idea, inviting him here, seemingly alone.

"And you don't have to be either. Say it."

That's the moment it happens. Karofsky lunches forward and slams both hands into the locker on either side of Kurt's head, just inches from actually hitting him, and the way his voice booms could probably be heard in Pittsburgh.

" _Shut the HELL up Hummel, I told you I'm NOT GAY!_ "

His arm draws back and the fist curls again, and Sam's world flashes white and red and suddenly he's hurling himself out of the machine maze.

" _Hey_! Get off of him!" He grabs Karofsky from behind, throwing him off-balance and away from Kurt a few steps.

" _Sam!_ "

Kurt had gasped when Karofsky hit the lockers and then closed his eyes for the punch that he knew was about to follow. He'd even forgotten about Sam in that moment. Of course, when the hit never lands, he opens his eyes to see the boys staggering away and he pictures a repeat of Sam in the nurse's office and he can't just stand there. After shouting his name, he reaches toward him, grabbing the closest elbow he can find and pulling him away from Dave. So much for the calm and collected approach. Kurt looks warily at Karofsky as he clings to Sam's arm, nervous but not yet despairing.

Sam sucks in a series of deep, shaky breaths while his blood keeps pumping too fast, and he's trying to focus on Kurt holding him back but Karofsky is still staring - glaring at them both and he looks as dangerous as he does terrified.

"He _knows_? You freaking _TOLD HIM_?!"

Kurt tenses when Karofsky shouts, his eyes briefly closing. The only thing he can think of that might help the situation is to separate himself, just a bit, from Sam. So he disentangles his arms and takes a leap of faith by stepping a few inches toward Karofsky nervously.

"Dave, he can help. You can be a jock, and out, and whatever else you want to be. I'm - I'm sorry, but he needed to know."

"Don't you _touch_ me," Dave shouts, even as he reaches out to shove Kurt by the shoulders. Sam starts to move forward, at the ready, but Dave doesn't do anything else. Physically, anyway. That finger goes up again, points from Kurt to Sam, and Sam's pretty sure Dave's forcing his hand not to shake.

"If anyone else finds out about this... anyone... I swear to god..." 

He lets his glare pierce through them, hand still hovering between their faces for seconds that seem to stretch on indefinitely. He finally breaks the silence with a voice dark and hollow. 

"I will _kill_ you. _Both_ of you."

Then Karofsky turns and slams his open palm against the closest locker, storming out while the clang is still echoing behind him.

People say that word a lot. They could just kill for a sandwich, or this test is killing them. Kurt's never heard that word said quite like that. It felt like a promise. A cold, sharp, deadly promise. His cheeks are pale and his eyes hollow as he stares after where Karofsky once was, the chill settling in his chest, trying to stop the trembling that's taking over his limbs.

Sam takes a slow, full breath, watching the space too. He doesn't even have to look over at Kurt to know what he has to do. Now that the anger and defensiveness are draining, Sam feels almost unsteady with fear. He knows Kurt isn't doing much better. He reaches out and pulls him into his arms, equally for him and Kurt.

"It's okay."

Kurt buries his chin in Sam's shoulder, clutching at the back of his shirt. "How? How is this okay?"

"He didn't mean it." Sam squeezes his eyes shut, arms closing tighter around Kurt and hoping he sounds sure. "He's really... really scared. That's all."

Kurt's scoff sounds shaky even to him. "He's already put you in the hospital. That was not a bluff."

Sam shakes his head. "It... that was different. He picked a fight and I went for it. He didn't just attack. He won't hurt you, Kurt." _I won't let him hurt you._

Kurt's quiet for a moment, just trying to rid his mind of the image of Karofsky's sharp eyes. He mutters, muffled by Sam's shirt. "So much for trying to help."

"You can't help someone who doesn't want help, Kurt. You didn't owe him anything. You already did... so much more than you ever had to."

Kurt shakes his head firmly, starting to feel ridiculous for seeming so weak and frightened. He's a Hummel. Hummels stand tall. He pulls back from Sam and breathes in sharply, swiping at his hair and looking away to disguise any first traces of wetness in his eyes. 

"I'm done. No more. I don't want him anywhere near me."

Sam bites his lip, but lets him step away. He folds his arms, voice steadier than he feels. "Good. Cause I don't want him anywhere near you either."

"If we just avoid him for awhile, it should blow over." Kurt smoothes away invisible wrinkles from his sleeves. His voice sounds tight, as if he hopes that by saying it out loud he can make it true.

Sam nods, in his head already trying to coordinate his and Puck's schedules with Kurt's so he never has to walk down the hall alone. "If he even looks at you wrong, I swear I'm calling the cops."

Kurt looks at Sam again, hearing in that tone something that makes him smile despite everything. Still, it must be asked, and his voice is soft and sad. "What do you think they'll do, Sam?"

"They have to do something. Maybe the school will sit on their asses but the police can't. They can't just ignore a death threat, especially with what he's already done."

It would be their word against Karofsky's, and that sounds... frustrating, painful and potentially still unproductive. Kurt sighs quietly and reaches out for one of Sam's hands with both of his. He suddenly doesn't want to think about that. _David wouldn't actually. No, definitely not, he's bluffing, and the bullying will return to normal and he can take it without causing a fuss._

"Hopefully, it won't come to that."

Sam curls his fingers around Kurt's hand and nods, letting out a soft sigh. He leans in and drops his forehead to Kurt's.

"Promise me you'll be careful?"

He's not very good at promising things like that. He sometimes _is_ careful, but it isn't a trait he aspires to. 'Careful' was never a trait used to describe a queen bee. Kurt's lips tense a bit uncertainly, but he finally gives Sam a little nod, inadvertently nuzzling against him as a result.

"If you will."

 _Well, in that case._ "I will." 

Sam squeezes Kurt's hand, then slowly pulls back and tries to smile at him in a way that might make him feel better. " _Nga yawne lu oer._ "

Kurt's nose wrinkles when he smiles. "I think I might know that one, actually." _Thanks to some Google research in secret when they first began dating._

"Good, cause I'm gonna say it a lot." Sam's glad for the smile - it calms his own heart down too. He kisses his cheek. "C'mon. Let's get out of here."

~

After the big announcement at Finn's locker, Kurt's texts have begun looking a bit more like Sam's due to capslock excitement. _MRrIED MAARRY DAD OMG MY DAD CAROEL WEHDDIIIIING._ It's been a day now, and Kurt doesn't go anywhere without at least three huge bridal magazines that he flips through instead of sheet music, sticking post-it notes to everything and anything that calls his attention. He's also almost perpetually on his phone, calling local businesses and looking for discounts. There are some dreams he's had to let die so that his dad can save for that honeymoon; the horse-drawn carriage followed by a second horse-drawn carriage loaded with a string quartet that would serenade his dad and Carol the entire way to the church was one of the first to go. It's still going to be an extravaganza, and it's still taking up the majority of Kurt's time and infusing him with a glow that says he has (momentarily) forgotten entirely about Karofsky and his threats.

When Sam asks him to meet in the Astronomy classroom, Kurt doesn't have the mental space to wonder what it could be about for very long. Meanwhile, Sam's pacing a little, staring up at the plastic planets while he waits for Kurt. He shoves a hand in his pocket and grips the box inside and lets it go, slipping his hand out again.

It's been kind of a crazy week. Planning and executing a wedding all in a week should probably be impossible, except that it's Kurt Hummel doing it. So between all the phone calls and pictures and texts with words that are apparently flowers and colors and stuff that Sam's never heard of, and glee rehearsals, Sam hasn't really had time to just talk to Kurt, just the two of them.

Which is actually okay, because it's taken this long to actually figure out what he wants to say and how to explain what this week has made him realize.

The second Kurt's in the door, he's babbling with a wide grin stretched across his face about seasonal blooms and ribbon colors and, taffeta or silk, he thinks the shimmer of burgundy taffeta could complement the mahogany of the pews but what does Sam think, is that too prom night tacky gaudy or does it still exude an understated elegance. He paces back and forth under the mobile of the planets, mouth moving like a machine gun.

"Now, the church is giving us a discount on the hall for the reception, which means that we can splurge on centerpieces and get both the orange and red ranunculus with the orange calla lilies, because I mean, it isn't a high class affair unless you have a few calla lilies-" A little giggle blends with his rapid-fire speech. Kurt is in _bliss._

His boyfriend sweeps into the room and already he's babbling on about something Sam can't even begin to make sense of, and it probably doesn't matter anyway since Kurt would just kinda smile at Sam's opinion and go with whatever he likes better anyway (because he would probably realize Sam had picked based on the word that was easiest to say) and it's seriously adorable as hell, to be honest. And then, in the middle of it all, just watching Kurt go on and on and be all happy and bright like this, like he hasn't been since all the Karofsky shit started to hit the fan... Sam can't wait any longer.

He pulls the box from his pocket and drops to his knee.

Kurt's so wrapped up in what he's saying that Sam's movement only catches the corner of his eye. After a double take, Kurt's face drains of color and he stops breathing, taking a reflexive step backward. _What is happening, what is happening, Sam and box and knee and his dreams this is not a dream this is happening this is actually happening._

"Oh my god. What- _what_ are you doing?"

Sam is determined not to be freaked out by Kurt's step back. He tightens his hold around the box a little and looks up, eyes meeting Kurt's from where he's kneeling.

"Listen... this week has got me thinking. And I know I wanna marry you - someday. Until then, I hope you'll accept this promise ring."

For as much as Kurt has always had romantic dreams about a moment like this, and for all of Sam being pretty much exactly the person he's always dreamed of being in front of him on one knee, Kurt is still jaded, and wounded, and jaded because he's wounded. One of his hands shifted to cover his mouth when Sam said the 'm' word and it moves down slowly to touch over his heart as he looks down at Sam, eyes wavering with touched uncertainty. His voice is tentative because he knows he's potentially ruining the moment with the question.

"...How can you know? We've only been dating for six weeks."

Sam bites his lip, trying to figure out that answer. How can he know? Kurt's not gonna accept that he 'just does,' Kurt's too think-y for that. He shrugs.

"I just... I thought I was like... brave, and tough and everything. I thought I didn't care what people thought. But that was just totally not true. I'm as obsessed with popularity as everyone else and... I didn't know what brave was until I met you. All I know is, the last six weeks have been like... the best ever. Even with the concussion and the slushies and whatever else. And my mom's like obsessed with your peanut brittle so I think she'd kill me if I let you go. And my dad is hoping he can score some free car maintenance out of our relationship." 

Kurt chuckles, looking at his feet. It isn't a fairy tale, but it certainly is Sam. As he lifts his eyes to Sam again, he takes a step forward, retracing the one he'd taken back. He's so... and this is _so_. But they're so _young_ , and it is early, romantic or not. And this school is so... god, Karofsky, and the football team, and Finn... not to mention his dad. And the wedding, there's just...

Kurt bites his lip and reaches out toward Sam's hand, not taking the ring and not _not_ taking it, just touching his fingers thoughtfully. He has to say one thing first, no matter what.

"I love you."

Sam takes a short breath, starting to grin brightly. That sounds like a yes. It totally sounds like a yes and Kurt's face looks like a yes.

"From now on, this ring will symbolize my promise to you to be true. To never pressure you to do anything more than kiss... to listen to your problems... to tell you when you have food in your teeth or eye gunk. I promise to make you feel proud when you walk down the hall and say, 'That dude's my boyfriend.' I promise to do all those things, without asking if the designer lines at Target count as high fashion."

Kurt continues to smile his tentative little smile as Sam speaks, occasionally humming out a giggle as he looks down. As Sam finishes, Kurt tilts his head at him, eyes almost wet and almost sad. He is proud. So proud. He's planned a full outfit around debuting Sam's jacket tomorrow. He loves this ridiculous boy.

But his fingers slip down and slowly shut the box in Sam's hand as Kurt breathes out a quiet sigh.

The loud snap could be the box shutting, or it could be Sam's heart shattering into a billion jillion pieces. He looks from the shut box, up to Kurt, a little wide-eyed.

"...Oh. I um - I thought."

"I'm _not_ saying no." Kurt gives Sam an intent look, stopping that train of thought hopefully before it even starts.

"...I can't wear this. Not with the way that people at this school still look at us. Not with the shadow of Karofsky still looming over us, and not when I know that my dad would threaten to lock me in my room for months if he saw it. We don't need this extra attention right now, Sam, and I don't want to have to justify... this to anyone."

He still slips the box out of Sam's hand and pulls it away, holding it tightly and clutching it to his chest. "Not yet."

Part of Sam wants to argue. It just... sucks, so bad, that they even have to worry about this crap. But at least the part about Kurt's dad is fair enough, and he's just so totally relieved that Kurt hadn't really said no. He smiles a little and stands, slowly, nodding.

"Okay. I get it. Whenever you're ready."

Kurt smiles back, doubly relieved that Sam doesn't look too entirely upset. Still hugging the box to his chest, he steps in toward Sam and leans forward against him, looking up. Keep that smile there, change the subject.

"... Have you been practicing our grand entrance down the aisle?"

Sam rests a hand on Kurt's arm, smiling a little sheepishly. "Um. Course?"

"'Of course.'" Kurt gives Sam an amused, appraising look. "Come on. We're practicing now."

Sam laughs and nods, giving Kurt a kiss on the cheek.

"Guess you'd probably kill me if I'm the one to screw up the opening number."

"Into microscopic pieces. Places, upstage." Kurt beams as he slides the ring box into his bag and heads toward the back of the room.

~

The next day, Kurt wears Sam's jacket for the first time. The red is complemented by his black cowboy boots with the red embellishments, his pompadour is high and his satchel is black leather. Johnny Cash meets Danny Zuko. He feels surrounded by Sam all day and he practically floats down the hallway toward his locker. He's even oblivious of the presence behind him until he turns around.

Dave Karofsky is standing there, behind Kurt, staring down. He doesn't say anything but his fingers clench into familiar fists. That jacket, it matches his own, but it's not his own and he knows whose it is. There's that anger again, it's deep and searing, like that day in the locker room. Like when he's seen them kiss. Like when he found out Evans knew what happened. _Stupid, smiling, perfect fucking golden boy Evans._

When Kurt turns around, Dave realizes he doesn't even know why he's standing there. To warn Kurt again to keep his mouth shut? To shove him?

To break down and plead with him to help him, god please just help him because he doesn't know what he's doing anymore and he's fucking terrified?

No. No, he's not terrified. He's _angry._ Kurt had told his deepest secret and Kurt needs to know that if he steps another perfectly booted toe out of line, he'll fucking pay for it.

When Kurt sees Dave standing there, it all floods back. The threat, the cruel, deadly burn in his eyes, the way he'd looked, pulling back his fist to slam it into Kurt's face. He pales and his eyes widen as he tries to remember to feel safe, he has the jacket to protect him.

But it won't. David Karofsky could wrap his large hands around his throat and choke him to death and the jacket would do absolutely nothing. Kurt practically shrinks down into his tall black boots as he takes a slow half-step backward away from Karofsky. His voice is quiet but tries so very hard to sound firm. It still comes out quivering.

"Stay away from me."

He hates it. Dave hates the terror in Kurt's eyes more than anything in the world... except, maybe, for himself. But it's there. And it's because of him. And Kurt can never know how much he hates it, because if he shows that - if he lets even that much slip - everyone will know, they'll all know everything. Dave will fall apart.

There's a stupid little cake decoration in Kurt's locker, on the shelf. Dave knows Hudson's mom is marrying Kurt's dad this weekend. Kurt's been running around with frilly-ass little pictures and this stupid grin on his face all week. Dave has to make the grin go away for good... when he sees it, it - it does something to him, something he doesn't like and can't accept. Slowly, he leans in close to Kurt, still saying nothing.

When he's barely an inch away, he reaches toward Kurt... and then past his shoulder, into the locker, and wraps his hand around the cake topper. He draws slowly back.

"Can I have this?"

When Karofsky leans closer, it is nothing at all like what happened between them. It makes Kurt's veins run cold, his mouth open in a silent, frozen gasp of fear, and his shoulders tense and lift. He's stunned to think, at that moment, that he had ever imagined he could make a difference here. And if he had never tried, he wouldn't be imagining a knife sliding out of Dave's jacket and abruptly cutting into him, right there in the hallway.

When Dave draws back, Kurt can't think of a single thing to say. No sharp retort, not even a word of righteous defense. He's suspended in his fear and he stares at Dave, aghast and stark white, vision blurred. Dave's eyes are darkened pits, but the cut of his jaw says more than they do; it says that he's walking a wire's edge. Kurt can imagine what would happen if he slipped even a bit one way or the other.

"Thanks."

Dave slips the cake topper in his jacket pocket, giving Kurt another long glare before he backs up and strides away, breathing shakier than he ever would have let Kurt see. What Kurt thinks of him doesn't matter. Kurt won't tell. That's all that matters.

Kurt doesn't consciously lean back into the lockers. His knees just shake too much to continue holding him upright. He doesn't even see Finn at first, just feels the hand on his shoulder and hears his voice saying his name. Kurt blinks a few times to try to focus. 

"Dude. What was that? You okay?"

Kurt draws in a breath and shakes his head, wrapping his arms around himself. "No. It's worse. It keeps getting worse."

Finn frowns, his voice sort of... funny. "Karofsky? Yeah. I mean. He doesn't really seem like the openminded type."

Kurt's fingers tighten on the jacket at his sides as he tilts his head toward Finn, his brow just beginning to crease.

"I didn't realize it required broad horizons to not want to put a fist through my face."

Finn gets that confused, uncomfortable expression he wears so very well. "That's not what I meant. And... anyway, you are... kind of asking for it."

For the second time, Kurt can't speak. He can only stare at Finn, who takes the silence as an opportunity to continue. 

"I mean, you're wearing his jacket, dude. You're kind of shoving it in everybody's face. And they're probably never going to be cool with it, it's just not that kind of a school."

Kurt's chin slowly lifts into the air as Finn speaks. _This is my family,_ he thinks, and the coldness reenters his chest. _This is my brother. This is my **brother**._ And his heart crumbles around the edges. His words are empty but pointed.

"... Did you want something?"

Of course, Finn doesn't notice. He just smiles and starts in on his big idea to become a 'stud' again. Kurt humors him and sets up a dance lesson, because he can't not, because the wedding is what he's clinging to at this moment. He walks away after their conversation feeling defeated by a wave of loneliness. It's hard to believe just then that such a person as Sam Evans exists in the world.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We wrote this chapter (like many of our chapters) quite some time ago. It's very emotional for both of us to post it now, and that's honestly part of what had us stuck for such a long time. We know it might still be difficult for some of you now. If thinking about the loss of Finn and Cory is something that makes it tough for you to remember how things were, we recommend waiting until our next update. We love all of you guys, our very faithful and loyal readers, and we've both been touched by your comments. Thank you so much for sticking with it - there'll be more updates soon!

News about what happened with Mr. Hummel and Karofsky gets around quick. It is in the middle of the hall, after all, and this is McKinley. Sam's kind of freaking a little by the time he gets a moment to himself in the locker room, because he doesn't know how much to believe of what he's heard and he hasn't seen Kurt since earlier in the day. He texts him the second he sets his bag down, more than a little frantic.

_dude r u ok?? herd about ur dad and karfosky did he hurt u??_

Kurt's at home already by the time Sam's text causes his phone to chirp. His dad insisted that he take the rest of the day off - no wedding planning, no schoolwork, just resting. Of course, Kurt insisted that his dad needed the rest more than he did. That was some energetic throttling from a man who'd recently been in the hospital. But he acquiesces.

The first thing he'd done was to lie back on his bed and stare at the ceiling, trying to sort through his emotions. He'd told, about Karofsky. Not everything. He's proud of that - he would hate to think of himself as the sort of person who outed, even if he's currently given up thinking of Karofsky as someone he can personally change. But he's gone now. He's really gone. He lifts his phone when Sam's text comes through and immediately feels guilty for not getting back to him earlier.

 _I'm okay, not hurt. Just got sort of out of hand._ He pauses before continuing to tap away. _They expelled him. I told them what he said to us._

_hes gone for good?? Kurt thats so awesome!_

Kurt smiles at his phone.

_Don't celebrate, you'll jinx it._

_Easier said than done,_ Sam thinks. Kurt is safe now. He can walk down the halls without looking over his shoulder. He can start eating normally again. He won't look so tired all the time.

_ok ill try. <3 hows ur dad? I herd he wsa super badass_

_He's alright, thank GOODNESS. He shouldn't be picking fights, but he's okay._

Another pause, and Kurt's thumbs waver in the air, uncertain if he should even go there. Ultimately, it's the idea of hiding it from Sam that pushes him to honesty. _Upset at Finn though._

_hes ur dad he cant help it. y upset ay Finn?_

_Because he's not been helping enough, I guess._ Deep breath. _I really shouldn't tell you this, but. He said I deserved it._

_????????? not ok!!!!!_

_He just doesn't get it. He doesn't understand why I can't hide it so that it can be easier. And don't you dare say anything to him, btw. I told you nothing._

_k i dont hav to say anything to kick him in the nuts =)_

Somehow, Kurt manages to both widen his eyes and furrow his brow up at his phone simultaneously from where he lies on his back. He should have expected that, but more physical violence? Really? 

_SAM I AM DON'T YOU DARE._

It's at that moment that the guy in question enters the McKinley locker room with a hangdog expression and heads tentatively toward where Sam sits.

"... Hey, dude."

Kurt is so lucky he got that text in before Sam sees Finn. It's the "Sam I Am" that gets him. He's powerless against it. So he won't kick Finn in the crotch, but he still doesn't look all too happy to see him.

"Hi. "

 _Sam knows then._ Finn can tell. He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly.

"Look, I know I haven't been, like. Totally supportive enough of, you know. You and Kurt, so far."

Sam scoffs. "More like you've been taking your time trying to pick what color slushie facial would look best on us." 

"Dude. I would _never._ " 

Finn frowns, trying his best to sound like he means it, since he does. "And- I never want you guys to get hurt, either of you. And I like both of you, y'know. As you are. So it was dumb for me to think you should try to change it, or act like you changed it, in any way. I just. It took me awhile to figure that out."

Sam would really like to just believe him. Finn's a good guy. He totally is. But his flaws right now are pretty major damn flaws, and as much as Sam wants to be his friend, his pride comes first. Kurt comes first.

"You figured this out when, ten minutes ago?" 

Finn looks down and speaks to his shoes.

"When Kurt told me what Karofsky said to you guys... I felt - I thought telling Kurt to lay low was how to keep him safe. And then maybe he could get a chance to be happy, cause everyone'd leave him alone. And I was wrong. The guy is nuts, totally, and so is anyone else who thinks they can say stuff like that to you two, for just trying to... be together. That's what's actually making him happy, dude. You. And I wanna try to help protect that from now on, if you'd let me."

Arms folded, Sam watches Finn's expressions shift. It's not the kind of thing you can fake, that wide-eyed shame. He looks like a kicked labrador or something. And he sounds... really sincere. Sam breathes out heavily through his nose and shakes his hair away from his face.

"I think Kurt needs to hear this from you more than I do, man."

"That's kinda part of why I came to you." 

Sam doesn't look like he wants to hit him anymore, so Finn hazards a smile. "I got an idea for how to show him how important he is, but I need your help. It's a song for us to dance to at the wedding, since he was really cool about teaching me how to dance. I could sing it, but some of the words might be kind of weird coming from me."

Okay. _Now_ Finn is talking. Sam allows himself to smile back.

"I'm in. Tell me what you're thinking." 

\--

On the day of the wedding, Kurt is backstage straightening his suit and warming up his vocals. He's anxious, because this wedding was almost entirely orchestrated according to his specifications, and if anything goes wrong he will obviously absolutely die inside and then strangle whoever was responsible. But there's also a lot of hope welling up. Things could be different now. Karofsky is gone. He's going to sing with Sam down the aisle. And he's feeling... free in a new way. Proud of what he's done, proud of the way he told the truth, and proud... in a way that he's still waiting to show Sam.

He doesn't hear Sam enter the room immediately due to the scales he's running through.

Sam stops at the doorway for a second, just listening to Kurt. He sounds awesome, as usual, and it's worth appreciating. Then he smiles and steps into the room, starting to sing the scale along with him, a third above so they harmonize. Kurt quirks a smile as he turns, continuing to sing until he reaches the triumphant note at the top of his range. He reaches out for Sam's hand with his.

"Well, hello Mr. Handsome."

"Hi." Sam grins and takes his hand without thought - most natural thing ever. He gives him a once-over, clearly an approving one. "You look awesome."

"Very much likewise. This should serve as your introduction to formal wear, because the cut of this jacket on your shoulders is, in one word, delicious." Kurt's eyebrows lift and his lips purse in a smirk that tips just over into suggestive. Sam snorts in response and tugs him in to kiss him happily, then squeezes the hand he's holding.

"Almost showtime. You ready?"

"That depends." Kurt bites his lip, already going pink, and takes a step back from Sam, both his hands held up in the air at either side of his shoulders. "Have you noticed what's different?"

Sam blinks slowly as he looks at Kurt, eyes skimming over his face and clothes and then, finally, his outstretched hands. That's when he catches it - the glint on Kurt's right ring finger. Right hand... that's okay. That's totally okay for now. He starts to grin, ear to ear. 

"You're wearing it!"

Kurt restrains his answer grin, looking at Sam with a knowing, amused little smile, even if it's covered in a now frighteningly vibrant blush. "Would you look at that, I am."

Before Sam can properly express his joy, the lights above them flash on and off (Kurt's request) to tell them that the music's about to start. Kurt looks up at them with sudden anxiety, reaching out for Sam with his right hand to squeezes his again. It's starting. It's really starting, all of his planning... everything suddenly feels so fast, and Sam is briefly the only stable part of a spinning room. But he has entrances to queue and costume checks to make and the show must go on. Kurt looks back at Sam, smiles and steps in to peck him sharply on the cheek. 

"See you out there," he murmurs, just a bit high-pitched, and then he slips away towards the door.

Sam smiles as he watches him leave the room to join their friends. He needs to get out there too, but first he just needs... just one second. His grin, if it's possible, gets even more giddy as he allows this insane surge of ridiculous, overpowering happiness burst through him. And just a little bit of triumph. He can't help it when he does a little jump right off the ground, punching his fist in the air. " _Yes!_ " His ring, his _ring_ is on Kurt's freaking finger!

But then he has to try to at least somewhat contain himself as he rushes out to meet the rest of the club in the wings. Still, Sam's totally beaming when their song starts, and it's not acting in the slightest. The music is upbeat and happy and everything in the church looks amazing (Kurt most of all), and Kurt is wearing his ring. That's pretty much enough to keep Sam floating for the rest of forever.

Finn and Rachel kick the song off with the first few lines. They look awesome, they sound awesome. They would be almost disgustingly cute if this weren't the perfect environment for it and Sam wouldn't be kidding anyone if he acted like he and Kurt aren't about to give disgustingly cute a run for its money. As Rachel and Finn finish their section, Sam steps out and grabs Kurt's hand, spinning him into the aisle. Kurt beams as they land their cue and he instantly feels that buzz in his chest that always accompanies that perfect performance, the one you always wait for. He and Sam sashay down the aisle, shaking their fingers by their hips as they double step. He keeps looking over at Sam to catch his eyes, smiling with a subtle kind of glow. If he didn't know better, he'd think this really was their wedding and he has the ring on his finger to prove it. There's no one else he'd rather be dancing down this aisle with.

" _Well, I know this little chapel on the boulevard, we could go-oh-oh..._ "

He and Sam circle while side-stepping twice, then face each other as they grapevine toward the altar. Kurt's smile is slowly getting wider the more he gets to lock eyes with his personal man-of-the-hour. " _No one would know-oh-oh..._ " 

They spin again and bop toward each other. There is definite beaming happening.

" _Oh come on, girl..._ "

Sam grabs his hand and tugs him in, then they both tug out again, hands still joined. They hadn't changed the gender of the lyric 'cause it made the lines sound awkward, but it doesn't matter. They're not trying to hide anything. The whole crowd of guests can see it written all over their faces that they weren't paired in the number by chance.

" _Who cares if we're trashed, got a pocket full of cash we can blooow... shots of petroh-oh-one..._ "

Not the most romantic of lyrics, but as Sam and Kurt move toward each other to make a _cheers_ gesture with invisible shot glasses, you would think it was from the way their eyes meet and light up, the way Sam can't stop looking at or smiling at Kurt. He sounds incredible and looks even better and he's freaking _wearing Sam's ring_ (no, it's definitely not getting old). Sam had brought up marriage when he gave him that ring, he knows exactly what Kurt is implying by accepting it, and man it's... awesome.

Sam's voice is a high energy but butter-smooth croon and it's perfect, Kurt realizes, all of this is... actually perfect. Kurt can't stop smiling as they continue to dance through the song, eventually forming two bopping lines down the aisle. And he's able to concentrate on the dance-

Until his dad comes out of the door and begins to dance down the aisle. And he's focusing so hard, and his dancing is so awful but so energetic... and Kurt came so close to losing him. Like he lost his mom. Has his dad ever been as happy as he is right now since that day? Kurt actually loses his voice as his eyes well up and his chest fills with a joy and wonder that hurts it's so big, and he has to cover his mouth with his right hand to stop from sobbing as the glee club continues to sing. They've both been alone for so long and trying so hard to pretend to be alright with that. Neither of them have to pretend any more.

When Burt leads Carol up the steps toward the altar, he sees a glint in the hand that's covering his son's big smile. And he knows exactly what that looks like. Maybe normally he would have caused a fit and sent him into solitary confinement, given him lectures about being smart about your heart and careful with your future.

Today, he just makes sure Kurt notices that he's noticed, and then gives first his son, then Sam, a twinkling half-smirk and a faint nod of approval as he leads his wife up to the priest.

Kurt's big blue-green eyes are all wide and shiny with tears, but it's a smile his hand is covering. Sam thinks he would probably do anything for that to be the only reason Kurt ever cries - just cause he's so damn happy. He moves close to his side, shoulder brushing Kurt's as he claps for Burt and Carole dancing down the aisle. He smiles at Kurt, then out at Burt... who he's sure, just for a second, is smiling directly back at him. It feels important. Sam doesn't have too much time to think about it, but somehow he thinks he gets it. He gives him a short nod just before the ceremony starts up. Today could seriously not get a whole lot better. 

\--

Kurt is thinking the same thing as he watches his dad and his brand new mom dance their first dance together. They're killing it, everything looks beautiful and not at all like he squeezed their budget dry. Sam is nearby. He has a dreamy smile on his face that he has to snap out of to actually applaud when the dance finishes. Kurt sighs happily and doesn't think twice about the fact that Finn is taking the stage - at least until he pulls a microphone from its stand.

"So, this is a day of new beginnings. For my mom, and for me... and for everybody. Kurt..."

Kurt's eyes widen as he sits up straighter in his chair.

"I haven't always been the brother to you that I should've been. But that's gonna change. We're a family, and... I love you, man. I promise to never let you forget that."

Finn smiles softly toward him and Kurt's chin starts to tremble yet again as he tentatively smiles back. More tears. Never-ending waterfall. Damn weddings. Finn breaks the moment with a glance toward Sam. 

"In order to show you I really mean it, I wanted to share this dance with you. And I need some help."

That's Sam's cue. He doesn't try to draw too much of Kurt's attention when he jumps up and joins Finn on the dance floor. Once there, he grins out at his boyfriend. The music starts, soft but growing. Finn picked pretty much the most perfect song ever because like every word is exactly how Sam feels, and the parts Finn and the rest of the group will sing get their point across too. Sam doesn't move too much when he first starts singing - just smiles, and watches the expressions shifting across Kurt's face.

" _Her eyes, her eyes, make the stars look like they're not shining. Her hair, her hair falls perfectly without her trying. She's so beautiful, and I tell her every day..._ "

 _Oh, god._ Kurt's eyebrows lift way, way up. The whole glee club is getting up to stand on the stage by Finn and Sam and they're dancing and it's all for him. For Kurt Hummel. And with Finn and Sam both looking at him like that, in very different but equally meaningful ways, he finally thinks he knows what it feels like... to be a star. He's rooted to his seat, cheeks now stretching into a grin down at his knees and he's trying very hard not to start crying _again_.

" _I know, I know when I compliment her she won't believe me. And it's so it's so sad to think that she don't see what I see-_ "

As Sam sings, he hops off the stage and goes up to Kurt's place at the table, grinning while he does his goofy little bopping step that predictably grabs Kurt's attention again and makes him laugh.

" _But every time she asks me do I look okay, I say..._ "

Sam turns to look toward Finn, who grins back and then looks toward his new brother as his voice lifts above the music. 

" _When I see your face..._ " 

He slowly walks down the steps as he sings, heading straight for where Kurt sits. Kurt straightens in his chair in alarm, shaking his head. In front of everyone? He isn't serious. He'll only regret it later. He'll regret it immediately. This isn't actually happening. But Finn keeps walking anyway, smile growing as he holds out a hand, waiting. 

" _There's not a thing that I would change..._ "

And he wouldn't - Finn knows that now, and he means it. That funny little crease is appearing between his eyebrows like it does whenever he really means what he's singing. " _Cause you're amazing... just the way you are._ "

 _Oh, god. Okay. Fine._ Kurt bites his lip, breaks into a smile, and then slips his hand into Finn's as he stands and is led toward the center of the floor. He shoots a little playful glare at Sam along the way. He hid this from him, the scamp.

Not something a guy usually gets happy about seeing - his boyfriend all grinny dancing with another guy, who he once had a crush on by the way. But this totally isn't like that; it's Kurt dancing with his brother and it's pretty much awesome. He keeps the song moving with the others while Finn does his best to lead a waltz while not missing a note.

Kurt meets Finn's eyes and mouths the count silently for a few beats to help him out, then he gets wrapped up in the moment. It's never been like this for him. Everything... revolving around him, and how right things are going for him, and how much someone... more than just one someone even, cares for him. It's making his face contort into self-conscious smiles and almost-tears and shaky pride.

" _And when you smile, the whole world stops and stares for a while, cause you're amazing... just the way you are._ "

Finn beams down at Kurt as he tries to make sure his feet move the way they're supposed to while also getting all of the words right. Kurt's sort of... leading while following, which helps. This song - these words - they're important, cause he means it. He really does. He sees a lot in Kurt that he never did before, all this... like, bravery. He's had to deal with a lot of people who didn't understand, and he used to be one of them. He really, really freaking wants to be part of the help, not part of the problem from now on. He and Sam sing together in harmony as Kurt guides him across the floor.

" _Oh, you know, you know, you know, I'd never ask you to change... if perfect's what you're searching for, then just stay the same. So don't even bother asking if you look okay, you know I'll say! When I see your face... there's not a thing that I would change. Cause you're amazing, just the way you are._ "

Sam beams as he sings, stepping in time with the rest of the glee club. He's proud of how they'd managed to pull this number together, in such a short time and without Kurt ever even getting suspicious. And it's all for Kurt. Kurt's down on the dance floor looking happy and relieved and at _peace_ after everything, and right now it's because of them. All of them. They _all_ love him. Sam hopes he knows that now.

Finn steps away after the repeat of the chorus, inviting his mom up to dance while Kurt follows suit and holds a hand out for his dad. Sam has to laugh while he watches the pairs, a little uncoordinated and stumbling (except for Kurt, of course) but all lit up. A family. It's really just... beautiful.

" _And when you smile, the whole world stop and stares for a while. Cause, girl, you're amazing, just the way you are..._ "

Now comes the part Sam's most excited about. Because Burt and Carole turn to each other, and their sons let them go. And Kurt's left without a dance partner. Sam shuffles over while he sings, smiling, notes high and he hopes he doesn't flub them.

" _The way you are... the way you are..._ "

Kurt hopes that even a third of his gratitude is visible in his eyes as he meets Sam halfway, hands briefly folded behind his back, innocently beaming. As they reach each other, Kurt holds a hand up (his right one) for Sam to take. Too much happiness, suddenly not enough room for air; his heart is pounding with affection. It's a good thing he has to stay to clean up to get their deposit back, or he might end up trying to catch that priest once the song ends. Sam looks at him like this and loves him and gets the rest of the world to love him too. He doesn't deserve it and he _doesn't care._

All Sam can do is grin like the biggest idiot ever as he takes Kurt's hand and tugs him in close. He settles his other hand on Kurt's waist and they push off, starting to waltz across the dance floor between the rest of the New Directions. At least, as best a waltz as Sam can manage. Kurt has tried a few times to teach him better... usually it just turns into a cuddle fest. Or a makeout fest. So now Sam can only hope he's doing it right and doesn't step on Kurt's feet.

" _Cause you're amazing, just the way you are..._ "

The music starts to slow a little, grows a little softer. So Sam sings a little softer, staring into Kurt's eyes, happy and warm and like the song says... totally amazed.

 

" _When I see your face, there's not a thing that I would change. Cause you're amazing, just the way you are. And when you smile, the whole world stops and stares for a while... cause you're amazing, just the way you are..._ "


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy update day!

After that little scene in Figgins' office, Burt and Carole something to discuss with their son - something that leaves him trudging to glee club in a daze, the hallway sort of fading in and out of focus. As he finally approaches the choir room, he dawdles outside, face drawn, until he finally pulls his phone out of his pocket.

_Come outside? Gotta talk._

Sam frowns at the text, instantly worried, but at least he won't have to walk too far to figure out what's up. He slides his phone back in his pocket and tells the group he'll be right back before pushing through the choir room door. He sees Kurt by the wall looking pale and a little sick and aims for nonchalance immediately.

"You okay, babe? What's up?"

Kurt has his arms wrapped tightly around himself and feels whole worlds away from where he was at the wedding. He looks at Sam, unable to pretend that he's anywhere close to "okay." Which means that without his usual recourse of deflection, the only way to get through this is... just to say it.

"Karofsky is back."

Sam feels his hopeful smile crumble and his heart almost actually stop. "...What?"

"They couldn't keep him out. He's coming back tomorrow. My dad just met with Figgins and heard."

Sam reacts the only way he can - by turning and slamming his palm against the closest locker door.

Kurt flinches. Hard - a full step back, eyes closed. The last thing that he wants to think about at this moment would be lockers and things slamming into them, and he has to take a steadying breath in through his nose before he can open his eyes again. By then, Sam has turned back and seen the look on Kurt's face. His heart sinks even further, out of guilt and worry instead of anger this time.

"M'sorry, Kurt, I just-" He grits his teeth with frustration. " _Ugh,_ it's just, it's not fair!"

Kurt thins his lips in an almost-smile of acknowledgment and pulls his shoulders inward. Sam thinks that's it, and he’s not even halfway done.

"They had something to ask me."

Sam pauses, sensing the returning tension, his weight uncertain again between his feet.

"Yeah?"

Kurt's brow creases and his bottom lip slips briefly between his teeth, his fingers tightening on his biceps. This whole conversation feels jagged and hesitant and it's giving him a panic attack.

"They asked me if I wanted to transfer. To Dalton."

"Transfer. To Dalton." Sam has to take a deep breath in and glance away from Kurt in order to let that... sink in.

"...Are you going to?"

Kurt tilts his head, purposefully expressionless, at Sam. "What do you think I should do?"

There's another long pause. Sam already knows what his answer is, but maybe if he takes a while to say it he'll be able to convince himself to change his mind. No such luck, though. Not when he remembers the way Kurt jumped at the slam a second ago, and how he's needed to wear his belts a hole tighter than he did at the beginning of the year and probably doesn't think anyone's noticed.

"Go. You should go."

Kurt's eyes just barely widen and he has to swallow to keep that immediate wobble in his chin from showing.

"...You want me to."

"No!" The panic shows in Sam's lifted brows. "Jesus, Kurt, of course I don't. I want you to be safe."

"But what about you," Kurt asks, tone quieter.

Sam shrugs. "I'll be fine. He was never really after me anyway."

It has to be asked, though Kurt looks like he's been sinking deeper and deeper with every sentence and now he's about ready to crumble. "What about... us?"

Well, that's an easy one. "What do you mean, 'what about us'? We'd be at different schools across town, not on different ends of the world."

Sam tries to shoot Kurt one of those smiles he calls infectious, and Kurt's lips do turn up, just barely. Then he takes a step toward Sam and reaches out towards him, ring-bearing hand first.

"But I can't last a day without you. Remember?"

Sam smiles more genuinely once contact's been offered and he takes Kurt's hand, leaning toward him.

"C'mon. You're Kurt Hummel. You can do anything you want."

Kurt takes a second step in, and then a third until he rests with gentle pressure against Sam's chest and turns his head to the side. He tries to imagine it - being at Dalton. He could talk about fashion with Blaine. He would join the Warblers... he would compete against Sam, and Rachel, and everyone. He would only see Sam after school and some weekends. He'd wear a _uniform_ , even if it's a dapper one.

_He would run._ From this school and everything it entails - he'd be running.

Kurt remembers the feeling of wearing Sam's jacket, the feeling he has now wearing his ring, the feeling of dancing with him at his dad's wedding in front of everyone. He closes his eyes.

" _This_ is what I want," he says in what's almost a whisper.

Sam lifts his hand to rest on Kurt's back, worrying his lip briefly but trying not to let Kurt feel it. He can only be so noble, and Kurt’s making it really kinda difficult.

"But I don't want you to get hurt."

"Then I won't." Kurt smiles, still leaning there. It's funny, saying it like that. Done and done. Neither of them want him to be hurt, so he won't. Why can't it be that simple?

"This is where I belong, Sammy."

Sam sighs, shutting his eyes and kissing Kurt's forehead beside the part in his hair. This time his smile is the private kind, quiet and touched.

"Okay. Cool. Cause- cause I really didn't want you to go."

Kurt's stable enough now, at least for the moment, to steer the mood away from somber by purposefully humming out a chuckle as he pulls back. "Really? I couldn't tell."

Sam snorts and leans in to kiss Kurt's smirking lips that he knows are kind of forced. He'll need to brainstorm ways to make sure Kurt is constantly safe and looked out for at all times, and he's still kinda raging inside that Karofsky was allowed back in, and there's no way that Kurt is just fine about this. But for right now, he's willing to push all of that aside. One crisis at a time.

"C'mon. Let's get back in there."

Kurt makes sure that he's holding Sam's hand tightly as they walk back into the choir room. Schue is shuffling some pages on his piano and he half-looks up as they enter.

"Kurt! Good, I was just going over this solo that I have for you for sectionals..."

Kurt's eyes light up as he slows down, one foot sort of comically hovering before setting down. Solo. _Solo,_ he gets a solo, at last. Even as his lips slowly stretch into a smug grin, he looks beside him at Sam and thinks of that first duet they missed out on. He thinks about almost leaving McKinley for good, and about Sam's bloody and bruised face, for him. Kurt's smile stops and does a few retracing quivers as he looks up into Sam's eyes. Then, with a breath and a lift of his chin, he leans closer to Sam, holding onto his arm with his other hand, and speaks so that everyone can hear.

"Actually, Mr. Schue, I'd prefer to perform a duet."

\--

 

So… as much as he’d enjoyed shocking the room by requesting a duet rather than centering the spotlight firmly on himself, this is not really what he’d imagined. It's after school only a few days before sectionals and a thunderstorm is raging outside, making the choir room feel more dimly lit and cozy than usual. He's wearing his athletic leotard under a very eighties thigh-length gray sweater and thin black pants with the dress shoes that he'll be wearing on stage. Sam's hair is still a little wet from getting briefly caught in the downpour on the way in from the field but Kurt's is unnaturally impeccable - he has color coordinating umbrellas for almost his entire wardrobe, obviously. Still, the slightly soggy look is admittedly rather appealing. _Hotter than Leo._ It's a memory that would make Kurt smile if he wasn't so tremendously nervous.

He shakes his hands in the air, staring across the room at Sam and bouncing anxiously on his toes. The infamous opening notes to "Time of My Life" have [just begun to play](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YRcKrkhOYUo) on the boom box and Kurt's heart is racing.

"Are you _sure._ If you drop me, Sam-I-Am, I swear to god..."

"Dude, seriously? I can bench press 200 and you probably weigh like... a third of that. I'm not gonna drop you." Sam grins and claps his hands like he's beckoning a puppy, widening his stance in preparation. "Cmon, Kurt! Do you wanna beat the Dalton preppies or not?"

Kurt frowns and sighs out heavily through his nose, trying to work up his nerve. He shakes his head in wonder, talking mostly to himself as the music continues, the words they'll have to sing ringing in the empty room.

"This is a horrible idea. This is a ridiculous, terrible idea."

"I'm beginning to think you don't trust me," Sam calls across the floor, putting a hand over his chest. "I'm hurt. Cut me real deep just then Shrek."

Kurt rolls his eyes at the impression, trying not to smile. He can't get distracted. If he gets distracted, he will break his boyfriend's nose. He closes his eyes as the bass rhythm pumps into him. His shoulders roll back, first one, then the other, knees moving back and forth to loosen up one more time, chin beginning to nod to the beat. He mutters, in part because this is where the song gets hot and sweaty and focus is required, "I wonder if there's such a thing as workman's comp for show choirs."

Sam waits at the other end of the room with his hands still at the ready, though his hips move while he hums the familiar harmony. He raises his eyebrows over at Kurt and begins to straighten up when he hears the muttering.

"You know, if you're seriously freaked out, we don't have to do this. But it would be awesome and I wouldn't drop you, man. Just saying."

Kurt is still nodding slightly to the beat while Sam speaks, and he opens his eyes with purpose glinting in them once the swell begins to build. He mouths the words, singing just barely along with the track.

" _But I'll tell you something... this could be love..._ "

Once Kurt sets himself up for the run, Sam realizes he wasn't just stalling for no reason. He totally wanted to wait for the dramatic part. Sam grins and braces himself - he'd really rather not go back on his word cause then he'll end up with a broken ex-boyfriend. Since Kurt will totally break up with him after getting out of the hospital.

" _Because...!_ "

Kurt makes a sort of squeaky gasp as he bends his knees and then bolts forward - a sound he definitely has never made before. He takes five, long, running strides until he hits his mark (about three feet in front of Sam) and then he jumps as high as he can manage, arms out in front of him, chest lifted and sweater riding up, vision sort of blurred and breath held in his chest.

To be honest, Sam might not have been _exactly_ as confident as he'd been making himself out to be. But he was like, really almost 100% sure he could do this! No problem. Course, when Kurt makes the leap, there's this split second where all the doubt kind of flashes at once and ohgodohgod what if he drops him, what if he hurts him?! But then Sam bends his knees and reaches out his arms and sucks in a breath, and suddenly he's got him. He's caught Kurt, and he straightens his arms to actually lift him and hold him above his head, and, somewhere in that whirlwind of movement they actually totally nailed it.

" _I've had... the time of my life! And I've never felt this way before!_ "

Kurt definitely isn't singing along anymore. He's floating. Sam's hands are on the points of his hips and he's holding him, actually lifting him up and Kurt's legs shift uncertainly in the air for a moment before he laughs out loud and lets out a little woop of victory. Oh, right, toes pointed. He fixes that, makes sure his arms are in position, and then looks down as he can feel Sam slowly start to lower him. It's sort of a dizzying feeling, being completely... moved about like that. He's always known Sam was strong, but he's suddenly aware of it in an entirely new way. An entirely new... sort of sexy way. There are fingers digging into his hips that shift with quick ease to arms wrapped around his waist that pull his sweater up high as they move, and his own arms wrap around Sam's neck as he slides down his body toward the floor, and by the time they're almost eye to eye, his lips brushing Sam's cheek, Kurt is definitely hot and pink behind the ears and looking very... dazed.

Sam leans against Kurt, biting his lip softly as their eyes lock. The air is charged... that happens with them, whenever they're together, but this is one of those moments where it's just like. _Dude._ You could reach out and touch the electricity, it's so intense.

" _And I owe it all to you._ " Sam sings the line quietly, not even really with the music so much, barely even conscious of it at this point.

Kurt blinks a few times rapidly, breathing in and then coughing out an awkward chuckle as he tries to get a grasp on his thoughts. He doesn't move away - he suddenly couldn't imagine moving away or not touching Sam - but he does try to use his voice normally.

"Well, that... that was interesting."

Laughing softly, more like just a soft breath, Sam curls his fingers into Kurt's back, causing it to arch and bringing Kurt those few inches closer. Close enough for Sam to casually nuzzle at his neck just below his ear. He can hear Kurt's shaky exhale and feels it shift his hair. No big deal. It's not like this is that new. They're not even kissing, still totally PG. Sort of.

"Thinking... we might wanna reel it in a little on stage," Sam whispers into Kurt's ear. "Kids in the audience and all."

Kurt's exhale ends in a scoff, although he hasn't opened his eyes since Sam’s breath brushed across his skin. "I- I don't think it would be the best idea for us to perform this in front of an audience."

"Yeah, you're probably right," Sam murmurs, nodding, though he hasn't let Kurt go yet and his tone is a bit higher than usual. "We could just. Sing. And stuff. And save... this. Y'know, for another time."

One of Kurt's hands shifts down to touch Sam's chest, but when he feels the quick thuds against his palm, his old uncertainty starts to buzz to the surface. And he'd been doing so well too. He'd lost himself for a second in the feeling of Sam against him, but now there's that familiar almost claustrophobic tightness in his lungs accompanying the squirming in his stomach.

"Sam," he murmurs with tentative concern, but Sam just smiles and immediately takes his face out of Kurt's neck. Kurt doesn't have to say it. They'll get there, and they’re not there yet. He leans in again to kiss him, lingering but definitely shifting the mood with his wide grin against Kurt’s lips.

"Told you I wouldn't drop you."

\--

Those last few days before sectionals are a blur of adjustments and rehearsals and stress fights in the choir room over Schue’s “unconventional” choices. But now here they are - the Warblers have just finished crooning their way into the audience’s hearts, and they’re up next. Kurt sits at his vanity apart from the rest of the glee club before they take the stage, staring himself down in the mirror. He lifts his can of hairspray and carefully clouds himself for about the fifth time as he tries not to let his nerves get to him. A male duet is risky, he knows that; it could go either way in this state. He notices Rachel approaching from behind him and flicks his eyes toward her before returning them to his reflection, lifting his chin a bit.

"Did you think of some more thinly-veiled and deeply narcissistic insults?"

Rachel purses her lips and flips her hair over her shoulder, standing up straighter in attempt to prove that his sniping isn't as important as what she has to say.

"You're going to cost us sectionals, you know."

"The world is ready for something new, Rachel." Kurt sighs haughtily through his nose, looking down it at her face in the mirror. It's funny, how she's actually... helping right now. The more he says these things to her, the more he starts to believe them himself. "And your ballad belting is about as innovative as a stale piece of rye bread."

Still, Rachel's face is stony and her eyes are bright. Rachel Berry doesn't lie down and take it quite so easily, not even from Kurt Hummel - who admittedly, lately, has proved a viable sounding board and co-diva as well as a worthy adversary. Unfortunately, the thing about divas is there's no "co" allowed.

"You don't have to tell me about the world wanting change, Kurt. My two gay dads already have their ACLU lawyers prepped on the situation in case there is any suspicion of foul play in the judges' room. But there won't be. This isn't about you and Sam being two boys, Kurt. This is about you and Sam not having the rigorous training and stalwart technique that a major competition solo requires."

Admittedly, that news about the lawyers gives Kurt pause. A surprising spot of thoughtfulness from Rachel Berry. He stops glaring at her and looks back at his own reflection. When she finishes, however, he arches an imperial brow and looks down at his nails.

"You know very well that you're only threatened because I've achieved this level of perfection without the expendable income for knuckle-rapping vocal trainers, which means that once we are afforded the same level of attention at a high-ranking university, I will certainly surpass you, _and_ Sam is every bit as naturally talented as my bumbling older brother."

Kurt swings around in his seat and crosses his legs tightly, eyeing her down. "So stop pretending that you're concerned about our chances in this competition and admit that you wish that you were capable of this level of innovative theatrics."

Rachel gapes, and has to blink rapidly just to gather her forces for another attack. After clearing her throat as primly as possible, she begins by picking her words with what she would call diplomatic tact.

"Sam is. He's very talented, as are you. I have never doubted your... potential, Kurt, I think we both know I've been more than generous in allowing you to step into slivers of my spotlight so that you might nurture your still budding talent. But Finn and I are the captains of the New Directions, and we are both polished, solid performers whose chemistry and presence shines onstage. I'm talking to you about this as a friend, Kurt, because I don't want the group to turn on the two of you when you bring us to our inevitable downfall."

Kurt can feel his eyes, his veins and his ears all burn with injured rage and his voice grows steadily louder than usual, fingers gripping one of the arms of his chair.

"Do you know what 'courage' actually means, Rachel? It means not hiding behind your _token gay parents._ It means being willing to take your turn standing behind someone instead of pushing them out of your spotlight and into the gutter. It means being honest enough to admit when you're threatened by talent and 'chemistry' found in places that have been egregiously overlooked. You're _jealous_ that I got 'your' solo, simple as that, and it is ugly and hateful."

When Rachel falls silent this time, it's clear she isn't just waiting to pull out the next smarmy retort. No, Kurt Hummel has gotten her to shut up long enough to actually think. She bites her lip, and clears her throat again - softly this time, because those last barbs particularly cut.

"I suppose... I suppose a change is the best way to keep the group fresh. I shouldn't be overworking my voice so close to flu season anyway."

Kurt gives her an extremely suspicious look in return, because this feels too easy. "You're agreeing with me."

Arms folding, Rachel instinctively falls into an expression that's careful not to give too much away, chin still raised. "Well, this time you happen to be right. I would be a hypocrite if I did anything to hurt the group's chances."

She pauses, looks at his narrowed eyes, and then her face softens. It's... silly, this feud, and she knows that. Especially as they've inched closer this year to something like friendship. The last thing that she wants is to lose the only person who can keep up with her, professionally and personally, because of - well, alright, jealousy.

"Listen, Kurt, you and Sam are... you're both really good, and you're amazing together. Anyone can see that. Loathe as I am to admit it, if anyone is going to charm those judges as a couple, it's going to be you two."

As he watches the hard crease in her brow that she’ll regret in twenty years dissipate, Kurt allows his suspicions to fade and he actually looks at Rachel in a way he doesn’t usually let himself, which is because it’s often frighteningly like looking in a mirror. As if he can pretend that he wouldn’t be fiercely protective of his spotlight if he’d ever been given one. But she cares about him and Sam, genuinely - he’s seen that before and it isn’t fair to pretend otherwise.

He slides out of his chair and stands across from her for a silent moment, the same backstage light reflecting in both of their eyes, before his lips pull into a quiet smile.

“Does this mean there are now two McKinley power couples?”

"Hey," Rachel's lips tug, almost returning that small, telling smile. "Let's not get carried away. You want the title, you'll have to get out there and earn it." Her chin lifts toward the stage, and that smile flickers wider.

A stagehand slips in to call five minutes and the electric thrill of nerves and pride flings his smile into a grin as Kurt starts to back toward the wings where his duet partner (at last) is waiting.

“Don’t worry. I intend to.”

Even sans-lift, the ensuing performance is explosive. By the time he and Sam meet in the center of the stage, they’re practically running toward each other and they catch each others’ hands in a spin that has even the most conservative audience member suppressing a cheer. Kurt is so _sure_ they’ve won that he’s already grinning as they stand on stage waiting for the announcement. Though that knowledge doesn’t stop him from squeezing Sam’s hand white.

He turns to look beside them at the Warblers and Blaine shoots him a friendly nod and a wink, cheeky as per usual, to which Kurt rolls his eyes and sniffs out a smirk. They _were_ good, and seeing them all crowded together like that, leaning off of one another with casual camaraderie, makes him remember that he was almost one of them. He almost wore that blazer and one-two stepped it behind the mighty Blaine Anderson as he belted to the back rows. And instead he has this - Sam bouncing on the balls of his feet beside him, Rachel suddenly clutching at his other arm with clingy giddiness, the entire glee club behind him. Admittedly there are still going to be battles fought in the McKinley halls just to keep living the way he wants to live, and it’s going to be hard and it’s going to hurt more than he’s likely to say. But as their name is announced and he jumps repeatedly in the air, flinging his arms finally around Sam’s neck and hearing the audience’s applause roar in his ears… he laughs, knowing that he’s not ever going to regret this choice. It’s broken, but it’s beautiful and it’s home.


	14. Chapter 14

Christmas time. To Kurt, it means exciting cold weather recipes, fantastic sweaters, the cinematic contrast of pale cheeks and red lips in the snow, family in a warm room, and _presents_. He glows as he sways around the Christmas tree with the rest of the glee club, singing about misfit toys and occasionally trailing a hand across the back of Sam's shoulders. They won at sectionals, so they're all in relatively high moods, and it's all thanks to him and Sam - a fact he hasn't failed to make well known. Even the occasional presence of Karofsky hasn't dampened his spirits - if anything, Dave seems to be avoiding him. So he smiles and skips and twirls into Sam's arms and out of them as they hang ornaments. As the song ends, he looks down at the little wrapped presents and sighs happily. He hasn't figured out what to get Sam yet. It's hard to imagine anything that could possibly be enough to thank him, for everything, for giving him this new world of possibilities.

Sam loves Christmas just as much. It's probably his favorite time of year. For all the same reasons as Kurt too - he won't pretend he doesn't have a section of his closet full of horrible sweaters given to him by grandparents, and as soon as the weather turns frosty, they go right to the front of the closet. He loves his family, he loves the lights and the tree, loves loves _loves_ the food and looks forward to enjoying it even more this year, now that he's getting better about the whole eating and not hating himself for it thing.

He also loves what Christmas is all about. It might be lame, but as he grew older and church became less of a thing he did because his parents made him, and more of a thing he really started to get, he came to really enjoy that too. He'd had to ask himself a lot of questions and come to a lot of his own decisions when it came to being Christian, especially when he'd realized he was bisexual. But eventually, he had, he'd fit it all into his life in a way that makes sense to him and helps him when things get rough. His faith is important to him and Christmas is the best time to remember that.

And well, okay, he's not totally without materialism. He loves the presents too. And the weather, and the music, and this year, he has a boyfriend he loves too to share it all with. That's probably the best thing of all. The song ends and he takes Kurt's hand as they all head back to their seats.

"Do you think I look like Hermey? "

Kurt sways a bit still even though the song's ended as they saunter back toward their seats. "I think you look..." Kurt does a little spin down into the chair. "Like the handsome lead in a Macy's commercial." Kurt grins and nudges Sam's shoulder with his own.

Sam laughs and nudges back. "Santana said I look like the gay love child of Hermey and the Abominable Snowman after Hermey pulls his teeth out."

Kurt rolls his eyes in response. "And Santana's heart shrank five sizes that day."

"I know, she's awful. I think I need my confidence boosted." Sam manages to pout and waggle his eyebrows at the same time, and Kurt predictably falls for it after a snicker. He wraps his arms around one of Sam's with an indulgent sigh, faking a tiredness in his voice.

"You're a big strong, handsome man and I am proud to be yours."

"Aww, thanks babe." Sam's grin returns and he leans in against Kurt, kissing the top of his head. He leans back out just as Schue comes in to start class.

His caroling idea... doesn't go over well. Kurt is left in a slightly less cheery mood by the time Schue is done speaking and he sighs as he stands up from his seat.

"At least our blood will match the seasonal color scheme. This is ridiculous."

Sam wraps his arm around Kurt's shoulders and tugs him to his side as they make their way to the door. "Aw, come on, it won't be so bad. Caroling is fun! And maybe they'll even like it. Where's your Christmas spirit, Scrooge McDuck?"

Kurt rolls his eyes. "My Christmas spirit would like to maintain this flawless bone structure, thank you very much."

"This from the guy who taught the football team Single Ladies and performed it in front of the who school."

Kurt gets a bemused and proud smile on his lips and his chin lifts a little higher, as it always does when Sam boosts his confidence that necessary little bit. "... True. Of course this time the ones threatening punches won't be gyrating beside me so much as chucking candy canes."

Sam laughs.

"Good point. But at least it's for a good cause, right?"

Kurt purses his lips one last time in obstinate displeasure before yielding. "All right, fine, it might be fun. You are like... the Christmas spirit incarnate, you know that? My well-honed cynicism is under attack."

Sam laughs and nudges him one last time. "I'd say sorry but I'm not." They reach his locker and he glances at Kurt as he starts to turn the combo lock, smiling. "So actually, I had something to ask you."

Kurt leans back into the locker beside Sam's and smiles, knowing a picture of him is in there and just taking a moment to bask in the public glow of boyfriend. "I'm not telling you about your present."

"Wasn't asking! And you don't get to know about yours either." Mostly because Sam doesn't know what it is yet. He's still freaking out about what to get Kurt and Finn is absolutely no help and Rachel is terrifying. "Anyway, what I wanted to know..."

Sam shuts his locker door and turns to Kurt, gripping his astronomy textbook tighter than necessary. "I was kinda wondering if you'd want to spend Christmas Eve with me and my family? I know you probably have a whole thing you do with your dad and the Hudsons! So, you know, it's cool if you can't. But my parents were all into the idea and I just... thought I'd ask."

It's an important gesture, and while he'll have to discuss it, Kurt still smiles. "Hmm, Christmas Eve with the Evanses. And what would be our itinerary?"

Okay, so he wasn't saying no yet, or freaking out that it was too big or too serious. Sam grins.

"Dinner, of course. With the grandparents and cousins, which means even more dwarves for Stevie and Stacy to terrorize the house with. At some point they'll all gang up on the parents until they let them each open one present from the tree. We do songs and stuff, they make me get out the guitar and all the older women in the family embarrass me as much as possible, so it would be awesome if you were there to distract them, since you're waaaay more adorable than me. Then we fill up the cars and go to midnight service. "

Sam smiles a little because honestly, out of everything, this is sort of what he was looking forward to sharing with Kurt the most. Midnight service means everything is dark and quiet, and the church is all lit up with candles and there's usually snow falling outside, and it's really pretty and peaceful and he always feels so... cozy. Like there's just love, everywhere. Which is too lame to say to Kurt right now but he hopes he'll feel it for himself.

Kurt is smiling and tilting his head happily. Until... Sam gets to the word 'service'. Then his smile goes flat and a crease starts to slowly form between his brows.

"... And by service, you mean. Church."

Sam snorts, not noticing at first, still blissed out by those candlelit thoughts. "Well, yeah. It's Christmas. Do you not go to church? I mean it's not a big deal, a lot of people don't do the whole church thing."

" _Obviously,_ I go to church. What self-respecting liberal-minded gay man with a dead mother doesn't?"

Kurt's sarcasm drips from each word and shows in the little scoff before he starts speaking again. "Me and 'God,' we're like this." He does air quotes and then twines his fingers together.

Now it's Sam's turn to furrow his brow. He's totally used to Kurt's dry sarcasm... it's just not usually aimed at him. His voice gets a little less sure.

"So.... you don't, then."

Kurt shakes his head a bit incredulously. He'd had no idea this would become an issue. Maybe he thought... that Sam's religious tendencies had changed as a result of coming out?

"Sam, why would I believe in a God who doesn't believe in me?"

Sam bites his lip and nods. It makes sense, really. He'd felt that way when he first came to terms with his sexuality. The fear that God wouldn't love him anymore, that Jesus would think he's an abomination. But then he'd looked things up. He's read things, which was a big deal for him. He'd asked questions and talked to his family. Even talked to his pastor one time, which was pretty much the most terrifying thing ever. And eventually it all lead to where he is now.

"God doesn't - he doesn't care if you're gay, Kurt. Anyone who uses the Bible to hate on gays had never read the Bible."

"Most people who believe in The Big G would disagree with you." Kurt chokes out a harsh laugh, actually starting to tremble a bit as he grips the strap of his bag with knuckles that are turning white. He doesn't like disagreeing with Sam, especially like this. But it's something that's so alien to him that it feels like a threat. "Don't tell me that you believe in a 'plan for us all' too."

It stings, a little. Sam sucks a breath in and tries not to let this thing be more than it is. Kurt probably doesn't realize he's making it so personal.

"I... like to think we're not alone."

Kurt's answer comes out rapid-fire, a reflex action. "If it's a part of someone's plan to murder kid's moms, then I'd rather not be getting down on my knees to sing their praises."

He breathes out harshly, clearly disoriented, frustrated with himself and confused. He looks away from Sam to try to distract from how flushed with distress he suddenly is and shakes his head. "... But just because I'm forced to see life's chaos doesn't mean that you have to. I should go."

"Kurt," Sam manages, chest tight. He holds a hand out but he really, really doesn't know what to say next. Are they having their first fight? And about something... he can't really fix. How can he fix something that's a part of him? And what's he supposed to do if it seems like it actually... offends Kurt? Kurt thinks Sam believes in something that ruins his life. What's Sam supposed to do about that?

Kurt considers just bolting. His eyes are rabbit-nervous on Sam's hand and he seems poised on his toes for another long moment before he sighs and turns back toward him, pauses, then forces himself to slowly reach out to take the offered hand.

"I don't believe in God, which is worlds better than the alternate option where I think he's an asshole. I'm aware that's an unpopular opinion. But I really don't want another 'error of my ways' speech right now, please. Not again."

His eyes are pleading, and Sam squeezes his hand on instinct, so relieved to have it in his, because that's a sign that they're okay. Whatever anger Kurt had flashed before, Sam can't feel the sting of it when Kurt's hand is in his. He bites his lip gently as he listens to Kurt's explanation. In a brief half-second, he finds himself thinking, _but how are we gonna raise the kids?_ Which first off tells him he's crazy, and totally not saying that out loud. And second tells him what he should have already known - he's okay with this. He doesn't need Kurt to agree with him on this to be with him.

"I- wouldn't give you one of those, Kurt. I don't believe in forcing faith on anybody, that's kinda missing the point entirely."

Sam looks down at his feet for a second, a little nervous about making his next point. "But um... I do want you to respect that I believe? It's... I know it's lame, I know a lot of it seems crazy and people do really, really bad stuff and use religion as an excuse. But... that's not what it is for me. And it's... important to me. So um. I hope that's okay with you."

Kurt listens, and wrestles with some fierce personal discomfort bordering on full-on fear, and then listens some more. It's difficult not to see it as a threat still - that some day Sam will change his mind and leave because of this, or that it'll become an ultimatum. 'God,' fate, or random chaos has brought a lot of terrible into his life so far and he can't imagine himself ever being okay with picking a figurehead and not just immediately wanting to punch them in the face.

Sam... Sam believes in a God. And he likes this guy. Some bitter part of him thinks that it must be easy to believe when you have your whole family standing next to you and you present as an Aryan dreamboat, but he knows that isn't fair. But he also... he can't just accept this without knowing more. Normally, he wouldn't make this effort, but here, he has to. Because he's actually really in love, and pretending that this part of Sam doesn't exist, pushing it into the back of his mind and never knowing the full extent of it, isn't an option when he knows it's all of Sam that he said he loved when he decided to wear the ring on his finger. His tongue runs between his lips before he speaks.

"...Come to the mall with me after school."

That probably sounded like it came out of nowhere. Rewind.

"I want to understand. Not _learn_ , alright, just... understand. And I need to pick up a pair of gloves for Finn anyway."

At first, Sam's afraid Kurt's just changing the subject. Which he doesn't want because then it'll always be this thing between them and he doesn't want that. He wants to know they can get through this and come out just as awesome on the other side. So when Kurt says he wants to understand, Sam grins a little and nods, slotting his fingers more firmly through Kurt's.

"Okay. I'd like that."

Kurt smiles back and then spontaneously leans forward to kiss Sam quickly on the cheek, right in the middle of the hall. "Parking lot at 4. Be there or suffer eternal damnation."

That was a joke - see, he's smiling! Hopefully that was an alright joke to make. It'll be hard on Kurt to reign in his teasing if it isn't; he's not used to holding back.

Sam snorts, clearly confirming that he is the same Sam-I-Am with the same cheesy sense of humor, and Kurt releases some of the tension between his shoulders.

"See you then."

\--

Kurt's conversation with Sam about the religious side of Christmas is... informative. He isn't about to convert, but he does understand needing something that feels stable to hold onto. For him, it's his dad, and his dreams. For Sam, it's his image of someone above him who cares indiscriminately and tries to guide people down the right path. It didn't hurt that Sam was certainly insinuating that that path led to Kurt.

But Christmas doesn't pass by the Hummel house entirely, and Kurt has always secretly wished he could be by someone's side during the holidays, staring at a glistening tree decked by Tiffany's. Christmas is _love_ for him, pure love paired occasionally with joyous camp. With the question of mass still up in the air, Kurt makes plans to show Sam that this holiday season can be about the both of them, whether Jesus gets in the middle or not.

He invites Sam to his house two days beforehand, saying in his text message only that he's feeling the Christmas spirit and the house happens to be empty. Fifteen minutes later and the lights are dimmed, the tree is lit up, he has a fake crackling fire playing on their television on a loop, a "Broadway Divas Do the Season" cd playing softly, red candles burning on the coffee table, and blankets and pillows laid out invitingly on the floor. He's wearing his favorite red and cream Christmas sweater and there's less spray in his hair than usual (with the admittedly unwarranted assumption that it would only become mussed anyway, but a boy can dream). There's no box - it isn't time for the larger presents yet, after all - but that doesn't mean that Kurt doesn't have a surprise or two planned. He's only just bringing two mugs of hot cocoa from the kitchen when he hears a familiar knock at the door. Hands full, he calls in a sing song for Sam to come in and then turns around proudly in front of his tableau, hands folded behind his back.

Christmas is so so close and Sam feels it everywhere. It smells like snow outside, and he can make smoke with his breath, so he can totally pretend to be a dragon. And his family's tree looks awesome, and every time he's around the people he loves it just feels so much cozier and warmer than the rest of the year. And that, of course, includes Kurt. Sam's super excited to see him and feel that feeling as he knocks on the door, bouncing a little and then curling his hands into fists and shoving them under the opposite arm. He forgot to bring gloves, like he always does. Kurt'll probably yell at him. After a second, he hears Kurt's voice ring out telling him to go inside. He lets himself in, rubbing his hands together for warmth.

He smiles when he sees Kurt, and smiles even bigger at the sight behind Kurt. "Wow... Kurt, this is awesome!"

Kurt beams at Sam and steps forward, taking his hands and drawing him back into the room. "Come on in, icicle-fingers."

"You're warm," Sam laughs, letting Kurt lead him in. He pauses for a second in their steps, though, tugging Kurt in for a cheeky kiss. "Also, hi."

Kurt smiles, eyes closed for an extra second, and strokes Sam's hand with his thumb.

"Merry two-day-early Christmas, Sammy."

"Merry two-day-early Christmas to you too," Sam echoes, grinning. He follows him the rest of the way to the blanket and takes his coat off, which reveals his own bulky, horribly patterned green, brown, and red sweater. He drops the coat haphazardly on the floor and plops down happily on the blanket.

Kurt kneels and reaches back to pick up one of those mugs again, holding it out to Sam. "This will warm you up." Once Sam takes it, he scoots closer and leans against Sam gently, his legs curling to the side. "I want to show you... what Christmas is for me, tonight."

Sam takes the mug and curls his still cold-numb hands around it. It feels pretty awesome and smells even better. He blows on the steam lightly and smiles over at Kurt. "Sounds nice. I'm guessing it's... not just the hot chocolate?"

Kurt touches his nose to Sam's cheek and kisses it once before pulling away and leaning back on one of his hands. "Just the start."

"Yeah?" Sam takes one hand from his mug to rest it on Kurt's knee, his brows lifted in a smile of curiosity. "Can't wait for the rest."

Kurt's expression is briefly enigmatic, but it dissolves into a glance down at his knee and a little giggle.

"...I'm sorry, it is really hard to stay focused with you in that sweater."

Sam grins waggling his eyebrows. "It's cause I look so hot, right?"

Kurt gives Sam that look that asks why on earth he loves him so very much. "Oh, clearly. There isn't a magazine in the world that you couldn't be a cover image for. Even National Geographic would stand up and take notice."

"Whatever, man. My sweater is awesome." Sam nudges him once, then again, ducking to catch his eyes, and Kurt finally bites his lip with a little smile and rolls his eyes.

"You do pull it off. And we can always call it ironic if necessary."

After a little pause, Kurt reaches down to touch Sam's hand again. "...Sammy?"

Sam glances down at his hand, then places his mug carefully on the floor and turns toward Kurt, who looks sort of like he'd felt when he'd gotten down on his knee under some styrofoam planets. "Yeah?"

"You know that... whatever my issue is with capital G..." He looks up toward the ceiling with a bit of a wince before returning that tentatively hopeful smile at Sam. "It doesn't change how I feel about you, and us. Don't you?"

Sam's gaze on him becomes soft as he takes in the comment. Yeah, he'd gotten pretty afraid Kurt might judge him for his beliefs. But the last couple days have just proven to him more than ever that loving someone is more about sharing and learning and understanding than it is about agreeing, especially about something that can never have a real answer. He squeezes his hand.

"I know. And... what you believe or don't believe doesn't change anything for me either. I'm just... I'm really glad you wanted me to explain. It means a lot to me."

"Good, because..." Kurt runs his tongue over his bottom lip, both concentrating and trying to come to terms with the fact that he's really about to do this. Finally he looks at Sam, a little flush with embarrassment, and speaks [the nerdiest words](http://www.lemondrop.com/2010/01/26/avatar-pick-up-lines-talk-dirty-in-Navi/) he will ever spend an hour learning how to speak.

 

" _Nga yawne lu oer. Ke lu kawtu a nulnivew oe pohu tireapivängkxo äo Utral Aymokriyä._ "

 

Sam's ears ring, initially not recognizing the sounds Kurt is making. By the end of what he's saying, it all pops into place - Na'vi. Kurt is speaking Na'vi! Kurt who hates Avatar even if he tries to deny just how much he hates it. Kurt who still calls them Cat People and has fallen asleep before the end two out of three times Sam has tried to make him watch it. Kurt has learned Na'vi. For Sam. He gapes, running the words through his head until he's grasped their meaning. And then he blushes, smiling - softly and then wider, his heart beginning to thud like crazy.

"Kurt... you learned Na'vi?"

Kurt shrugs a little, directing his self-conscious smile down at their blanket. "The most important parts, anyway."

"So you... you meant all that. Like... all of it."

The self-consciousness fades as Kurt directs that heart-pumping, shaky smile straight at Sam this time.

"Like, all of it."

Oh... oh, okay. Sam remembers Kurt's hand is touching his. He turns his hand to clutch Kurt's gently. His smile grows into a grin. It's one of those times where he won't be able to say anything right, so he leans in and kisses Kurt to say it all instead, his other hand lifting to rest on his jaw.

Kurt's very aware of the meaning of those words he memorized, and the kiss starts out purely sweet, but it isn't long before he tentatively deepens it. He feels warm all over, even if the fireplace on that screen is fake, and he knows that his neck and cheeks are flushed. This is what Sam does to him, and every time too - this giddy, enchanted disbelief isn't fading as they go on. Sam makes him feel strong and weak all at the same time. He makes him feel like he wants to sing and cry. He makes him absolutely petrified and breathless and shaky with happiness. He can't believe that he deserves this in his life, and he can't imagine ever having to let it go.

Sam kisses back until he runs out of air, his palm touching Kurt's skin and fingers pushed into his hair the only thing grounding him. Kissing Kurt leaves him dizzy, and flushed, and feeling completely on top of the world. And Kurt's just all but told him, in the nerdiest language ever, that he expects to always feel that way. And that he wants to...well. Do everything you do, when you aren't going to end. Sam is red when they start to pull back - from the kissing, from the emotion, from the stuff Kurt implied. The Christmas tree makes Kurt's eyes glow even more than usual. He has to kiss him again - has to - and then he hugs him close while he tries to catch his breath.

Kurt reels as he winds his arms around Sam's lower back in turn, his eyes closed and his eyebrows raised as his chest lifts and falls heavily. He whispers in Sam's ear, limbs buzzing.

"You're the most incredible person I've ever met."

Thank God Kurt can't see how deep Sam is blushing. He shudders and tightens his hold. He answers, half joking and half not - because really, when standing next to Kurt Hummel, what's so great about Sam Evans that you can't get from a gym and a few protein shakes? "Think... that probably means you haven't met enough people."

"Don't need to." Kurt squeezes Sam a little and buries his nose in Sam's neck, his voice an awkward mumble. "You're everything I need. You're perfect. Handsome, funny, sweet, talented, strong, sexy and mine."

Sam breathes him in, each compliment making his heart beat a little faster. How is it that Kurt makes him feel so special, in a way that being the quarterback or dating the head cheerleader never could have. In a way all the weightlifting in the world has never been able to come close to. With Kurt, its like all he has to do and be, is Sam. And he'll still think all these things about him. It's a freedom and confidence Sam never thought he'd have. Kurt's his Lois Lane, except Sam has no secret identity to hide from him. He knows it all and loves him anyway.

"There's no one else for me in the whole universe."

Kurt pulls back slowly, looking at Sam as he bites his lip, feeling that warmth wash over him in waves. He takes both of Sam's hands in his and starts to stand, tugging him up. "Dance with me."

At this point, Kurt could've said 'jump into this pit of scorpions with me' and Sam would've been like, 'sure, okay.' He squeezes his hands and stands with him.

Kurt pauses before leaning in, wrapping his arms around Sam's lower waist and resting the side of his head against Sam's. He closes his eyes and starts to sway. He loves how easy it feels, how comfortable he is right here. He doesn't need theatrics. Which isn't to say that he hasn't memorized his track listing and prepared another little surprise for a few moments from now.

Sam smiles gently, settling his arms around Kurt, his hands testing lightly on his back as they move. He's never thought of himself as much of a dancer, Bieber-licious moves aside. But this kind of dancing, it turns out, he can do just fine.

"Mmm... you smell like cinnamon."

Kurt smiles against Sam's cheek and whispers, "Early Christmas gift to myself. Not unlike tonight."

The music [changes](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xu_w3tNXRbg) predictably and Kurt lifts an eyebrow, pleased with himself, as he sways in time. His voice emerges in a quiet hum against Sam's skin.

" _I'd like you... for Christmas. Please make my wish... come true. Cause I'd trim trees... and deck the hallways. If I knew you'd, be mine, for always..._ "

Sam takes a soft breath as Kurt starts singing. He lifts his head, smiling a small smile at him, letting the words wash over him before resting his head back down against Kurt's. He closes his eyes, letting himself sink into the sound of Kurt's voice. 'You already have me,' he wants to say. But he doesn't want to interrupt.

" _I won't be blue... for Christmas. If old Saint Nick... comes through. And he remembers that I'd, like you, for Christmas..._ "

Kurt reaches up and touches Sam's neck with his palm, eyes closed again as he sings his last lines. " _New Years, Easter too..._ "

The chorus repeats his words as the song continues in the background, but Sam's attention is all on Kurt. He tilts his head and gives him a small, grateful kiss, his breath hitching slightly before he speaks.

"That was... really beautiful, Kurt."

"Beautiful, and?" Kurt glows with pride, deliberately pushing for more compliments as he nuzzles at Sam, lips pulled into a minuscule smirk.

Sam laughs, brushing another kiss against his cheek and answering even though he totally knows what Kurt's doing.

"And you're the best singer ever and also the cutest, and I'd like you for Christmas too. And all those other holidays."

"Perfect," Kurt answers as if judging Sam on his memorization skills. He squeezes Sam tighter and resumes their gentle swaying.

"... I wonder what would have happened, if we hadn't found each other when we did," he murmurs after a few blissfully quiet moments.

"Hm." Sam bites his lip. Not something he likes to think too much about. He doesn't know how much he'd like the person he'd have been without Kurt in his life. "Bet you'd have been fine. Found some hot guy who could sing with you and dresses better than me."

"Sounds horrible," Kurt coos back. He lays his head down on Sam's shoulder and smiles a blissful smile. Someone he'd have to fight over the best dressed title with? No, thank you.

Sam laughs and shakes his head beside where Kurt's hair is tickling his chin. "Bet you'd have ended up dating Blaine or something. You'd have met him at sectionals and been charmed by his 1950's heartthrob crooning and his hair gel."

Kurt rolls his eyes and pokes Sam in the ribs with a free finger. "You'll never let this go. Blaine's not interested in me."

"That's not what you're supposed to say," Sam laughs beside a little squirm.

"Oh, I see. You need to be assured that hypothetical single me would never stray from his non-relationship with hypothetical you." Kurt lifts his head and smirks at Sam. "Hypothetical you is jealous."

"Okay, I'm getting kinda dizzy with all the hypothetical talk, but yeah. I do. C'mon, assure me." Sam grins at him with a teasing sparkle in his eyes.

Kurt leans in, brows lifted with attentive seriousness though his lips are still quirked. "No version of me wants to be with Blaine. And every version would definitely rather be with you."

Well, that _definitely_ means a grateful kiss for Kurt. Sam nuzzles their foreheads together afterward. "This is already my favorite Christmas ever and it's not even Christmas yet."

"And we have an hour still before my father comes home and expects to see us chastely sitting on opposite sides of the couch." Kurt doesn't lift his head, but his voice is coy and breathy against Sam's lips.

Sam raises his eyebrows and grins, thinking about that inviting blanket spread across the floor and Kurt in candlelight. "After you," he whispers back.

After Kurt finally kneels, pulling Sam down after him, he slides close enough that he's almost half in his lap, their legs intertwining and his hand resting in the center of Sam's bulky sweater beside where his own chest is pressed against him. Kurt kisses him in that careful, slow way that means he's going to be at this awhile and sees no reason to hurry, and Sam feels his pulse pick up and his whole body get warm. This... yeah, he can definitely see the appeal in this part of Christmas too.


End file.
